


Honor Bound 4

by whump_tr0pes



Series: Honor Bound Universe [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Consensual Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Escape, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Honor Bound, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Redemption, Sequel, Slow Burn, Smut, Team as Family, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 120,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whump_tr0pes/pseuds/whump_tr0pes
Summary: After the team barely escapes Colleen Stormbeck with their lives they return to the north, broken. All they want is a life of quiet recovery, of new relationships, of strengthening old ones. Unfortunately for them, trouble comes to them this time.
Series: Honor Bound Universe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595560
Comments: 26
Kudos: 31
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Whumptober 2020





	1. On the Run

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even believe I'm on book 4. Thank you everyone who's tuned in.
> 
> Notes at the top will have the BHTB prompt inspiring the chapter if there is one, and major content warnings. Content warnings will also be in the tags.

Isaac felt like he might keel over and die right in the middle of the road. His hands were tightened into fists on the wheel as he drove slowly into Crayton, just one car on his tail this time. He glanced at it in the rearview every few seconds. His throat worked around a nervous swallow as he returned his eyes to the road.

Vera sat rigid beside him. Isaac didn’t think she’d taken a breath in at least thirty seconds. Every now and then she glanced back at Tori. Tori sat slumped against the door of the car, eyes blank and unfocused, staring out into the dark. It was almost midnight. All of them had barely slept since yesterday.

They’d all caught snatches of sleep every now and then, nodding off onto the shoulders of the people next to them, jerking awake moments later with a jolt of terror. _We still aren’t safe yet. We still have to get to Gray._

Ellis sat next to Tori. One hand sat gently on Tori’s hand on the seat, and the other reached back towards Finn. Finn clutched at Ellis with one hand and with the other touched Sam. On their hair, on their back, on their leg. Constantly moving. Constantly desperate to help. Constantly able to do _nothing._

Isaac was almost grateful he couldn’t see Sam in the dark. He knew exactly what they would look like; they hadn’t changed in the entire drive north, starting yesterday afternoon, stretching through the night, through the entire next day, and now halfway through this night. Everyone had driven except Sam and Tori. Everyone was barely able to stay conscious. Isaac wished he could sleep and never wake up.

Even though he couldn’t see Sam, he could _hear_ them. Hear their whimpers, their ragged breaths, their cries every time he drove over a bump. He knew the seat must be soaked in their sweat and stained with blood. Finn had stopped the bleeding in Sam’s arm at Lucy and Topher’s house, and it hadn’t started bleeding again. Their whip marks, on the other hand, had broken open and bled into the fabric of the seat as they writhed against the pain in their arm. The pain had started just a few minutes after they left the house.

 _“Ketamine doesn’t last very long,”_ Finn had offered as an explanation. As if that was all Isaac needed. As if could rest easy in that knowledge, with Sam nearly delirious with pain, the pills Finn was feeding them seeming to do almost nothing. _“They’d be screaming if they didn’t have them,”_ Finn said. _“Believe me, they’re helping.”_ Isaac’s chest ached with every little sound Sam made. His hands tightened further on the steering wheel.

He started slightly as Vera brushed the back of his hand with her fingers. “We’ll be okay,” she murmured. “We’ll get through. No matter what, we’ll get through.”

Isaac swallowed hard. “What if they—”

“They _won’t._ ” Vera’s mouth hardened into a line.

“But what—”

“If they do…” Vera drew in a deep breath and pushed it out slowly. “…we’ll handle it. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

 _If we have to shoot our way out of this, we’ll start a war with the north. We’ll never be safe, north or south. We’ll always have to run. We’ll always be days or moments away from being killed. How will I keep my family safe, then? How will I protect them all when the entire world wants us tortured or dead?_ Isaac’s eyes filled with tears. _How many times will I have to try to die for them before I actually keep them safe from something?_

He already knew the answer. _As many as it takes._

Vera pushed his shoulder and he started again. He shot a glance at her. Her skin was almost black in the darkness, but he could see her eyes burning into him in the light coming from the headlights. “Stop it,” she said gently. “I can see you’re spiraling.”

“I’m not _spiraling,_ ” Isaac said, and consciously relaxed his hands. “I’m… um…” He shrugged. “…worried.”

Vera kept looking at him even after he looked back at the road. “Okay,” she said softly. She turned back to face the front. “Okay.”

By now, they’d passed most of the houses and were entering Crayton proper. The streets were wider, albeit still torn up, haphazardly paved. Done with the best the town could do. The gatekeepers of the north, defending all the people beyond it from the meager attempts the syndicates waged to tear them apart. No one cared about the north.

_They would, if they knew where we were._

Isaac pulled into the square and slowed the car to a stop. He carefully opened his door, his hands raised. A floodlight attached to the car following them blazed on and blinded Isaac. He blinked and turned his head away from the light.

He couldn’t see past the light, but he could hear two car doors slamming, and the sound of footsteps slowly approaching. His hands shook. He tried to hold them steady. He heard a short intake of breath as two figures stepped into the floodlight.

“Are… are you… _Isaac Moore?_ ”

Isaac bit his lip. _Oh, god. Please let that not be a bad thing._ “Y-yeah,” he rasped.

“And you… did you really…?”

“Please,” he breathed. He motioned to the car with his head. “Please. We’ve got… we’ve got a few who are hurt. We just escaped from C-Colleen Stormbeck, and… please. We need to find Gray Uriah. They’re our family and we just need to… just need to find them.”

“Who else is with you?” the other voice asked nervously.

“My family,” Isaac said weakly, turning and gesturing to the car. The others were all slowly climbing out. All but Gavin.

 _Gavin’s not with us. Have to sell that. Have to make them believe it, too._ He couldn’t let them know that Gavin crouched on the floor in the back seat, huddled under a blanket, probably praying just as hard as Isaac was that they wouldn’t search the car too closely.

Tori hobbled away from the car and Vera rushed to her side. Ellis got out of the car and immediately went to help Finn pull Sam out. Sam’s head lolled on their neck, sweat shining on their skin. Isaac’s stomach dropped. _We need to get them help. More blood, maybe. And rest._

Isaac let his hands fall to his sides, slowly, slowly. One figure appeared in the beam of the floodlight, a gun held tight in his hands but low to the ground. Peering at the family. Nervous, but not suspicious.

_Not yet._

_Not helpful._

The other stepped into the light and stopped by Isaac’s side. “Did you really kill Colleen Stormbeck?” she murmured.

“Yes,” Isaac said weakly. “But we have to get to Gray Uriah… please… _please_ …”

Isaac turned and the man was peering through the windows of their car, shining a flashlight in each one and moving on. He opened the trunk and nodded when he saw the meager supply of food the family had left over from their twenty-hour sprint to the north. He finally turned and went back to his partner’s side. They both holstered their guns.

“You were here before,” the man said. “A few weeks ago. You were going to go…”

“And we killed her,” Isaac said, desperation growing. Sam stumbled and fell against Finn’s side. They cried out weakly and staggered, nearly falling to their knees.

Isaac’s hands curled into fists. Tears threatened in his eyes. _“Please,”_ he whispered.

The silhouettes of the man and woman looked at each other, then looked back at Isaac. The woman spoke. “…and what happened to Gavin Stormbeck?”

Isaac wet his lips and shivered in the cool night. “He’s, um, dead.”

The woman sucked in a breath through her lips. “Him, too? The entire Stormbeck family is dead?”

“He didn’t die a Stormbeck,” Isaac whimpered. “He died one of us.”

“He was _never_ one of you,” the man snapped. “They _don’t change._ ”

“He did,” Isaac said, a little firmer. _Arguing with them is pointless. He isn’t dead. But Sam is hurt. Sam is bleeding._ He shook his head. “Please,” he begged again. “Please. Gray Uriah. We just want to find them so we can recoup. _Please._ ”

The two looked at each other again and held each other’s gaze for a long moment. The woman nodded. The man looked to Isaac and gestured with his hand to the car. “Go,” he said softly. “I know your names. I’ll get you checked in with the city hall.”

Isaac’s breath rushed out of him. _“Thank you.”_

The man shrugged. “If you killed Colleen Stormbeck…” He spread his hands. “…it’s the least we can do.”

Isaac wet his lips. “And… and Gray Uriah?”

The man gestured past the car, pointing north. “Keep going. They moved to a farmhouse with the young one… what was her name?”

“Edrissa Clarke,” Isaac and Vera said at the same time.

“Right,” the woman murmured. “Head north out of Crayton. They’re a few hours out still. This road will take you to Burmingham, take a right on first street there and follow that out for about twelve miles. There will be a fork. Take the right one. On the left will be a lake, and the farmhouse is just past the lake on the left.”

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut, visualizing the directions. “Take this out of Crayton, go to Burmingham, right on first, twelve miles, fork, right, pass the lake, farmhouse on the left.”

“Right.” The woman shrugged awkwardly. “So… I guess…”

Isaac was already turning to go. “Thank you,” he said in a rush. He went immediately to Sam’s side and half-carried them to the back seat. They flinched and wailed pitifully as his arm pressed against the whip marks on their back. “I’m sorry,” Isaac murmured as his eyes filled with tears.

“I-Isaac,” they whimpered. Their left hand closed on his shirt. “Isaac, it… it _hurts…_ ”

Isaac looked desperately at Finn as he helped Sam into the car. “Finn…?”

Finn shuddered and shook their head. “Can’t give more Vicodin. It has Tylenol in it, Isaac. If I overdose them, I fuck their liver. Tylenol overdoses are _very_ hard to manage, even in the hospital. I c-can’t… _help them_ …” Finn dissolved into a sob.

Isaac grabbed Finn and dragged them into a crushing hug. “Not your fault,” he whispered. “Not your fault. Let’s just get them to Gray. We’ll see if Gray can get them something else. Do you think they’ll need more blood?”

Finn ran a hand through their hair. “Fluids, at least,” they said, biting their lip. “Maybe blood. I don’t know. I haven’t checked a pressure in a while.”

“Let me know,” Isaac said as he stepped away. He rushed to the driver’s seat and jumped when he saw Vera already sitting there.

“I’ll drive,” she said as she stuck her thumb at the passenger seat. “It’s only a few more hours. I’ll drive.”

“Are you sure?” Isaac said weakly, already moving.

“Sure,” Vera said as Isaac appeared on the other side of the car. “No problem. Let’s just go.”

Isaac nodded slowly and pulled the door closed. Vera glanced in the rearview to make sure everyone was in, and slowly got the car rolling. Isaac thought he could see Vera’s jaw clench and he was sure she was looking at Tori.

He reached out and squeezed Vera’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’ll get her back.”

Vera sniffed. A tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. Finally, she said, “You don’t know that. She’s never been gone this long before. She’s never…” Vera swallowed hard, and Isaac could hear the sob she was fighting down. “She’s… _god,_ Isaac, look at her. She’s…”

“She’s not broken,” he said gently. “Not completely. You found your way back from this. You found a way.”

Vera cast a glance back at Tori, then back to the road. “We’re all broken,” she said bitterly.

Isaac opened his mouth to protest. He closed it slowly.

 _She’s right,_ Isaac thought heavily. _We are all broken. Tori’s hurt beyond repair, Ellis nearly lost their mind, Finn is eaten alive with guilt, Vera’s voice was taken away again, Gavin thinks he deserves to die for hurting us when he’s the only one who could have gotten us out, and Sam…_

Isaac’s mind cried out when he thought of Sam. Over and over, unbidden, images flashed across his mind of Sam’s bruises, the lines on their back left from the whip, the marks around their neck from where they’d been dragged and pinned and strangled with the collar. Their whimpering sobs cut through him like a knife. _I told Sam I hate them. I let them hurt Sam. I_ begged _them to hurt them. They’re broken, shattered beyond repair, and it’s because of me._ Scalding rage moved through his chest. _This is all because of me._

He couldn’t think at all about the ways he’d been broken. He couldn’t think of his own scars, his own wounds, his own pain. He pushed it down. It was irrelevant. Unimportant. His pain meant nothing, because he was supposed to suffer for his family. That’s what he was _for._

 _No._ He pulled himself back from the edge of _that_ cliff. _I hated myself before I ever loved them._ His pain meant something, because what if he wasn’t meant to hurt? What if he was meant for something else, instead?

He couldn’t think of how broken he was, because he was most broken in his _mind._ He was so broken, he’d gotten feelings for his one-time captor. For the man who beat him, scarred him, very nearly killed him. Very nearly killed _Sam._ He now felt something for the man who had changed. Who had renounced his name and his birthright, who gave up on everything he’d ever known to come be a captive and an informant on his own family. Who had found a way to be good, despite everything he’d done, everything he’d been through. He felt something now for the man that sacrificed his soul to keep his family safe. He felt something for the man that had hurt him. Violated him, on his mother’s orders. He felt something for the man he’d asked to make him feel good, to make him feel like he was being made love to, instead of being chained down and raped.

 _I could never love Gavin Stormbeck,_ Isaac thought. _But I could be in love with Gavin Uriah. I could be with him, if only he wanted me, too._

Isaac swallowed hard. When they finally left Crayton, Isaac turned.

“You can come out now,” he said softly. Gavin emerged slowly from behind the seat, eyes wide and terrified. They found Isaac’s and didn’t let go until Isaac turned around to face the front.


	2. Sleep Deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for noncon mention

Sam’s head lolled on Finn’s shoulder. They weren’t asleep, not even close, but exhaustion dragged at their body, ate away into their bones until they felt like they would shatter with a single touch. They were miles from sleep. The agony pounding through their arm every single moment made sure of that.

Finn was dozing against the seat, their head tilted back. Their mouth was open and they snored softly, little noises with each breath that wouldn’t have bothered Sam at all on any other day. Right now, every sound was a blow to Sam’s skull.

They hadn’t slept _properly_ in weeks. Almost a month. Almost a month of lying on a cold cement floor in chains with lights that never turned off. Almost a month of starting awake with nightmares of Colleen holding her knife to Isaac’s throat, to Vera’s, to _Gavin’s._ Almost a month of crying themself to sleep as Isaac whimpered softly beside them, or Tori sobbed in the next cell. They hadn’t slept at all, the last night they’d been in Colleen’s captivity. When Isaac didn’t come back from Gavin’s room, Sam was terrified to their soul. _She’s been torturing him all night._ _She’s killed him. She’s made Gavin kill him. They’ve hurt him so badly he needed a doctor, one who can do surgery and set bones and sew up his insides._ When Isaac returned, Sam had wailed with relief. They’d cried harder when Isaac told them he had a plan to get them out.

They wouldn’t have slept that night anyway. They’d _heard_ what Leo said about them when he was threatening Finn. They understood what Leo meant. They understood Leo wanted them in the worst possible way, wanted to hold them down as they screamed and fuck them. Leo wanted that the whole time. And Gavin stopped it. _Gavin stopped it,_ even back when he was so twisted. That’s what Gavin saved them from, even then.

Vera drove over another bump, and a scream tore from Sam against their will. They didn’t mean to. They knew it was making it harder for everyone to sleep. They pressed their lips together and whimpered. Isaac stirred in the front seat and turned to look back at them.

Sam hated themself for making the sound. The pain that twisted in Isaac’s eyes, the _guilt,_ was more than Sam could bear in that second. They couldn’t take the burn of Isaac’s gaze as Sam read what he was thinking, as clearly as if he was saying it out loud: _this is my fault. I should have taken the bullet. I should have been the one to bleed out, be cut open, scream._ Sam had always been able to see it. They just never realized how deep that pain really went.

Another bump. Agony lanced through Sam, through their arm, their back, their chest… everything. They clenched their teeth against the scream that forced its way up out of their chest. They fell back against the seat, cradling the arm that was tied against their chest. Something was wrong in their arm, they could feel it. Something in their hand. They just didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to _know._

The road to the farmhouse was bumpy, and it was _excruciating._ The directions had been right: up to Burmingham, take a right, a fork, a lake. They couldn’t see in the dark, but Sam _thought_ they might be halfway around it by now. They prayed. They desperately waited for the next pill that would dull the pain. Make it simply unbearable, instead of something that would crush them alive. Sweat soaked into their clothes. Made them shiver. They could feel the sweat and blood on their skin. The pain rose, like a spike was being driven through their arm. They moaned and pressed themself against Finn.

Finn’s head shot up and their hands flew out towards Sam. Finn scrubbed drool from the corner of their mouth and blinked slowly. “W’s happ’nin?” they slurred.

Sam shook their head and squeezed their eyes shut, sending a cascade of tears down their cheeks. “S-sorry,” they whispered.

“No, no… it’s okay.” Finn checked their watch. “It’s… fuck, it’s four. Jesus.” They rubbed their eyes. “Wh-when was your last pill? Ten?”

“I th-think so,” Sam whimpered. _Please, Finn, please take the pain away._

“Hm.” Finn fumbled at their pockets and pulled out the bottle of pills. It was halfway gone already. They poured out one into their hand and passed it to Sam. Finn reached for a mostly-empty bottle of water.

“Finn, _please,_ ” Sam whispered. “ _Please,_ can I have… just one more, _please_ …”

Finn’s hands shook. “I c-can’t,” they said desperately. “Sam, the… the Tylenol…”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Sam said, a little louder. “Please, Finn, I don’t _care._ It _hurts._ ” They bit down hard on their lip.

“Sam, I…” There was a rustle of fabric as Finn slumped against the seat. “I _can’t._ ”

Sam shuddered as the car went over another bump. They looked up and saw everyone in the car turned back, looking at them, pain tightening all of their faces. All except Tori. Sam looked down. Their cheeks flushed with shame.

“M-maybe I can find you something else,” Finn said weakly. “Something without Tylenol. Maybe I can do that.”

Sam’s head dropped back against the seat. Bitter rage curled around their chest, dug claws into their heart. The pain stole every thought from their head, every plea, every moment of sanity. They were sick with pain. They dropped the pill into their mouth and washed it down with the water Finn held out to them. They held very still, waiting for the pill to make it all the way down. They prayed they wouldn’t vomit it up. They closed their eyes and leaned their head against the window. The glass was cool on their cheek. They drifted in the pain.

The car rolled to a stop. Sam sat up, then cried out as it jostled their arm. They whimpered as the cry grated their cracked and aching ribs. For a moment, they nearly went out of their mind with the inescapable agony. It froze their chest. They felt a chill down their neck, and their head swam. They fell against the seat, stunned. The light in the car turned on as someone opened the door. A black spot appeared in Sam’s vision.

Someone gently touched their shoulder. “Sam?”

Sam tried to turn their head, but they could see nothing. Were their eyes open, or shut? There was a buzzing in their ears, so loud they momentarily couldn’t hear anything else. The world spun and they fell sideways. Directly into someone’s arms.

Sam was pulled from the backseat. They screamed raggedly against the hands that tugged at them. They fell roughly out of the car, still half-supported by the arms that wound around them. They stumbled over the uneven ground as they were dragged towards the house.

“I-it’s okay, Sam,” someone murmured into their hair. _Finn._

“We’ve got you, honey,” someone else said softly from their other side. _Vera._ Sam whimpered and slumped in their arms. They stopped, and Sam nearly disappeared into the blackness then. Three dull thuds echoed through their brain. They couldn’t lift their head. They could barely keep their eyes open.

“Wh… wha…” Their lips were numb. Their arm was on fire.

“We’re at Gray’s house,” Vera said at their side, with something like a whimper in her voice.

Sam sagged against their hold and let out a broken sob. _Maybe I can sleep. Maybe I can rest._ Their arm flared with pain and they quivered, leaning their head against Finn. _I’ll never sleep with my arm hurting like this._ Their eyes burned, but no tears came. They were out of tears to cry. It felt like they’d been crying for days. Maybe they had been. They weren’t sure where they were, or what day it was. They weren’t sure how they were still standing.

Someone knocked on the door again, three louder thuds that pounded in Sam’s head. They flinched and staggered back. Finn’s arm tightened around their waist, and they didn’t fall.

“What if they’re not home?”

“What if it’s not really their house? Maybe we followed the directions wrong…”

“We weren’t wrong. Those directions were exactly right. Maybe they—”

Sam’s head spun. They couldn’t tell who was talking. There was a rustle behind the door and everyone fell silent at once. There was the scrape of the turning bolt of a lock, and the door swung open. Sam opened their eyes. Light streaming out from inside the house made them blink. They wobbled on knees that threatened to give out.

There was a gasp. “What… what _happened…?_ ”

_Gray._

Sam collapsed forward with a thin wail, nearly pulling out of Finn’s grasp. They stumbled forward, searching for Gray, willing their eyes to focus until they could see them. They fell hard against someone and the air was forced from their lungs in a startled cry. They felt warm arms around them. They pressed their face into someone’s shirt and unraveled in their embrace.

“Sam,” Gray murmured, their chest rumbling against Sam’s ear. “Sam, you’re… Isaac… Vera… what _happened?_ ” Sam nearly fell and Gray moved with them, guiding them into the house. They saw warm wood floors and painted white walls and deep purple curtains all mixed in with copper and dark furniture. Then everything was a swirling mess.

“We… C-Colleen Stormbeck,” Isaac rasped. “We… she took us. And we—”

“She… _what?_ ” Gray cried, their voice thick with distress. They eased Sam down onto a couch and let them lay flat. The room stopped spinning, just a little bit. Gray sat down at their head.

“She, um, took us,” Isaac said miserably. “K-kept us. She… um…” Sam’s eyes were able to focus and they saw Isaac standing over them, one hand reaching hesitantly towards them, tears rolling down his cheeks. “…she tortured us. But we… we got out. We k-killed her. She’s… she’s dead.”

Gray’s fingers moved gently through Sam’s hair. Sam grimaced at how it stuck to their scalp. “Colleen Stormbeck… is _dead?_ ”

“Yes,” Isaac said. He bit his lip and turned to Vera.

“I put a bullet in her head,” Vera said harshly. “And in Leo, too. And in half her guards.” Vera’s arm tightened around Tori’s shoulders as Vera guided her onto the couch beside Sam. “I killed Colleen.”

“But…” Gray looked down at Sam. Their gaze moved over Sam quickly, taking in the sling, the bandages, the blood still staining their skin. They sucked in a breath through their teeth and turned to Finn. “What—”

“They were shot,” Finn said tightly. Gray gasped and turned back to face Sam. “They were sh-shot in the, in the arm. I we-went in and, um, I, uh, fixed it.”

For a moment, there was no sound in the room but Sam’s ragged breathing.

“You… _fixed_ … it?” Gray’s voice cracked.

“Um…” Finn hung their head. “Y-yeah, I, um, I did.”

_“…how?”_

“Um…” Finn flushed red and looked at the floor. “I… um… I know I’m not a surgeon, but I didn’t see any other option, since Beringer was almost two hundred miles away and there wasn’t anyone we could trust and we were still _in_ Fort Meyers, and they were, were, um, b-bleeding out so we, uh, went to Tori’s friend’s house and he, Topher, he’s a vet tech so he ha-had the stuff I needed so I, um, went in and… I, um, I sewed up the ar, ar, artery and I sutured the muscles and I, uh… stopped the bleeding and I know that was dangerous and I know I could’ve m-messed it up, but Gray there was _so much blood_ and I didn’t know what else to do and—”

Gray got to their feet and drew Finn into a crushing hug. Finn sobbed and their head dropped onto Gray’s shoulder.

“I am so proud of you,” Gray whispered. “Proud of _all_ of you.” They released Finn and looked around at them all. Their eyes fell on Tori and stayed.

Sam shuddered and whimpered as the pain flared. _Why won’t that pill start working? Please… please…_ Everyone’s eyes turned at once towards Sam.

“Oh, god,” Gray breathed. “You all must be… you must be exhausted. How long have you been—”

“Since yesterday afternoon,” Isaac said heavily. He swayed on his feet.

_“Jesus.”_ Gray looked around at all of them. “I should have enough rooms for all of you. Sam, I can—”

“Please don’t move me,” Sam sobbed. “Please. I want to be here. Please… please just… let me sleep here.” The couch was quite possibly the softest thing Sam had ever lain on. They thought they maybe might possibly be able to fall asleep _right this second…_ if only their arm would stop feeling like it was being stabbed, over and over and over.

“Gray, do you…” Finn whimpered desperately. “I only have Vicodin, and I can’t double up doses. Do you…?”

“I have morphine,” Gray said softly.

Sam’s heart lifted for a moment at the thought of relief. Their chest ached.

“You have… _what?_ ”

Gray pressed their lips into a line, their eyes swimming with tears. “I thought… I _worried_ … that when you came back… you would be in, um… rough shape,” Gray said softly. “So while you were gone, I got some things. Some medical supplies, fluids, and painkillers, and some, ah, Ativan for panic attacks…”

Finn rushed forward and nearly tackled Gray into a hug. _“Thank you,”_ Finn whispered.

Gray rubbed circles into Finn’s back, then pulled away. Gray disappeared behind the couch. The room wavered around Sam’s head.

Isaac knelt beside Sam on the couch and took their hand. Finn stood by, nervously wringing their hands. Ellis was stuck to their side like glue. Vera had her arms around Tori. Sam could see the cracks in Vera’s iron mask, the strength she carried like a shield starting to fall. They were safe now. They were with Gray. Vera could afford to fall apart now and as she looked at Tori, Sam realized she was crumbling _hard._

“Th-thank you, everyone,” Sam groaned softly. “For, um… you got m-me up here, and I… Finn…” Sam swallowed, the pain latching onto them and threatening to pull them down again. Sam’s eyes rolled back as they tried to find Finn. They felt a hand in their hair and peeled their eyes open to see Finn looking down at them, smiling brokenly with tears in their eyes. “You…”

“I’m s-sorry I couldn’t help with the pain, Sam,” Finn said. The tears spilled over and they swiped them away.

“You—” Sam croaked. They swallowed drily. “You… s-saved me.”

Gray reappeared holding a few things: a bag of fluids, a pile of IV supplies… and an orange bottle that rattled in their hands. Finn snatched the bottle up and checked the dose. They poured one pill out and looked around. “Gray, could I get some water for…?”

“Of course.” Gray set the supplies on the table and went to the kitchen. Finn knelt at Sam’s side and tore open the packets of IV supplies.

“I want to get you more fluids,” Finn said softly. “Morphine’s got vasodilator properties and I wouldn’t want it to—”

“Sounds good,” Sam whimpered as Gray reappeared with the water. They sat beside Sam and held the cup to their lips. Sam took a sip and took the pill Finn gave them. As soon as it was down, they fell back against the cushions, and the jolt dragged a cry from them. Sweat beaded on their forehead.

Finn had the tourniquet on, the needle in, and the extension set attached before Sam could even blink. Their head swam again as they swirled downwards, circling a drain that would pull them under into blackness again. They moaned as they watched Finn hang a bag of fluids from the tall lamp that stood beside the couch. The world darkened, the sounds muted, the pain fading. Sam knew it wasn’t from the pill yet. They walked willingly towards the oblivion.

From above them, they heard words that passed sluggishly through their mind.

_“I want to stay with them. Make sure the morphine doesn’t—”_

_“No, Finn. Go sleep. You look half-dead. I’ll stay up with them. It’s alright. It’s pretty close to when I get up, anyway.”_

_“I want… Do you think we should get them to bed? They’ve been… we haven’t been able to sleep with the lights off in weeks. Maybe we could—”_

_“I’ll turn the lights off, and just use a reading light to read my book. They can be in the dark. If they wake up when the sun comes up and they feel up to it, we can get them to bed then. For now I just want to get a few hours of sleep in them. The pain won’t get better if they don’t sleep and start to heal.”_

_“O— Okay. I guess we…”_

_“…worry about anything. I’ll make sure you…”_

_“…no, I’m… I’m not hurt…”_

_“…don’t care about me, I just want to make sure they…”_

_“…to sleep, Isaac. They’ll be here when you…”_

_“…want them to know that I love them. And I’m sorry.”_

Sam stirred, and the world lurched around them. Their head fell back against the cushions. “Love you, too, Isaac,” they whispered. The darkness claimed them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mention of noncon, consensual spice

Finn’s eyes opened slowly. Their gaze moved lazily over the white walls of the room, the large wooden door, the window with the deep purple curtains pulled closed to block out the sun. The checkered quilt on the bed. The lamp on the nightstand beside them. For a moment, they had no idea where they were. They lay still, fighting down the panic. _I’m in a bed. Why am I in a bed? Did I… did Leo decide to take me anyway? Am I in Leo’s bed right now?_

A second, more terrible thought jarred them. _Am I dead?_

Someone moved in the bed beside them, and Finn jerked away. It took them a moment for their eyes to focus.

In the bed next to them lay someone to whom Finn’s mind supplied: _The most beautiful person in the world._ Their black hair lay tangled around their head, their pale skin just barely lit by the light coming in through the curtains. A delicate hand lay next to their face on the pillow, curling and uncurling as Finn watched. Ellis’s face was relaxed, the usual tension in their shoulders gone for the moment. Finn knew if Ellis opened their eyes, Finn would be immediately lost in the deep blue, swimming there forever, and they would be content.

_Ellis. My Ellis._

Finn leaned forward and kissed Ellis gently on the forehead. Ellis stirred and heaved a deep sigh, still asleep. Finn smiled and got out of bed. They wanted to get a drink of water, and they were going to do just that. Without an escort. Without the goddamned motherfucking _collar_ around their neck.

Finn opened the door and padded out into the hall. Nothing in the house moved. They heard the soft sound of the wind outside, the quiet squeak of floorboards under their feet. They wandered down the hall. Two doors down from theirs, the door was open. Finn stepped inside and flipped on the light. They looked around at the small bathroom and realized with a wavering sense of unreality, _I can come in here any time I want. I can wander the house. I can go outside. I can do whatever I want now._ They smiled at themself in the mirror. After a moment, their face fell.

They looked like _shit._ Their face was gaunt, their eyes faded, with dark circles under them. They took a step closer, their hands moving slowly over their face. They looked paler than they had in years. Another step, and their gaze flicked to their hair. Chestnut brown, and Ellis _loved_ to run their fingers through it. Now there was a patch of scattered silver in with the brown, twisting through the strands at the top of their head, just above their hairline. They looked closer and noticed bits of silver, just one hair at a time, all throughout. Finn swallowed hard. Their gaze roamed once again over their own face, to the lines of tension around their mouth, their eyes. They trembled. They didn’t look twenty-eight. They didn’t necessarily look old, either. They just looked… _destroyed._

Wait… _were_ they twenty-eight? They left for Fort Meyers on April sixteenth, and Finn _thought_ they’d been there for three weeks… maybe four. But how long had it been? What _day_ was it? Finn’s heart sank. _Did I have my birthday while we were all being tortured?_ Tears sprung to their eyes.

They felt a wash of shame. It didn’t _matter_ if they’d had their birthday while with Colleen. In the grand scheme of things that had happened to all of them, missing a birthday seemed like a ridiculous thing to care about. _Tori is so broken she isn’t even in her own mind right now. Isaac and Gavin were raped – they both were, Gavin just as much as Isaac. Sam was shot and hurt so badly I_ still _don’t know if they’re going to be okay. And I… I may have missed a fucking birthday. Who cares? I’d miss fifty fucking birthdays rather than go through what they went through. A thousand birthdays. A birthday means_ nothing _._ Finn ran a hand over their face. _This is the least of our problems. Get the fuck over it, Dunham._

They bent over the sink and took a long drink of water. The water tasted just the slightest bit odd, and Finn recognized the taste. _Well water._ For some reason, something about that touched Finn deep inside, deep under the pain. _Gray draws water from a well, under our feet. We’re out here in the middle of nowhere with a lake and a well and wood floors and—_

They jumped and nearly shrieked as something bumped against their ankles. They looked down in a blind panic before they realized what was now shoving their face against Finn’s ankle with an enthusiasm that bordered on sweet ferocity: a cat.

Finn immediately relaxed and bent to pet it. The cat trilled softly and bumped their head into Finn’s hand. The cat was solid black from nose to tail, except for the gray whiskers that tickled Finn’s bare ankle. Finn smiled and had to hold down a laugh. _Gray got their twin in cat form._ Finn scratched the cat’s ears and it closed its eyes, purring. _Of course they got a cat. That’s… so good._ Finn’s eyes filled with tears, this time as something sweet welled up inside them. _Gray retired and got a farmhouse and a cat. That’s the most Gray thing I’ve ever heard, and I love it so, so much._

Finn straightened and walked softly back to the room they shared with Ellis. The cat trotted alongside them, their yellow eyes staring up at Finn as it meowed softly.

“Sorry,” Finn whispered. “I don’t know where your food is and I’m going back to bed.” They bent to scratch the cat’s ears once more. They opened the door, careful not to let the cat in. They slowly closed it, their back to the room, making sure the cat didn’t dart past their legs and into the room.

As they turned to face the bed, someone collided with them, slamming them back against the door. For a moment of panic Finn thought, _Leo’s going to hurt me._ Then lips were on theirs and they smelled Ellis, tasted them, felt them on their skin. Every other thought flew from Finn’s mind and they pulled Ellis hard against them.

“Finn,” Ellis rasped against their lips. “Finn, babe, I…”

“I love you,” Finn whispered, their mouth moving on Ellis’s.

“I want you,” Ellis whispered at the same time.

Finn grinned, and they pulled back for a moment, looking into Ellis’s eyes. At the clear blue they missed so much, the curves of their face. Finn’s hands tightened on Ellis’s waist. They turned and slammed Ellis back against the door.

Ellis gasped and moaned softly as Finn brought their lips to theirs again. Ellis bit down on Finn’s lip, and Finn hissed softly through their teeth. Their hands closed around Ellis’s wrists and pinned their hands above their head.

“I want you, Finn Dunham,” Ellis whimpered, leaning as far forward as they could, trying to catch Finn’s mouth for a kiss.

“I… I don’t know if Gray has any condoms, or—”

“I don’t care.” Ellis sucked on Finn’s lower lip, and Finn groaned against Ellis’s mouth. “I don’t care. I want… I _need_ you, babe. I thought you were dead, I…” Ellis’s voice broke. “I thought you were _dead._ ”

Finn pressed Ellis against the door with their body weight, their hands going softly to Ellis’s face. “I knew you weren’t,” Finn said softly, and met their eyes. “I… I missed you _so much_ …”

Ellis’s hands tightened in Finn’s hair. “Then take me,” they said heavily, desire thick in their voice.

Finn’s lips quivered, then pulled into a smile. “Right here?” they asked, their mouth twisting into a roughish smirk that they knew Ellis liked.

Ellis’s gaze flicked between Finn’s lips, and their eyes. _“Please,”_ they whispered.

Without another word, Finn’s hands went to the hem of Ellis’s shirt. They hadn’t even bothered getting undressed last night, they’d been so exhausted. Finn yanked the shirt up over Ellis’s head and tossed it to the ground behind them.

Ellis practically tore Finn’s shirt off. Ellis’s hands went immediately to the planes of Finn’s chest, over their shoulders, clutching at their arms. Finn pressed their lips to Ellis’s neck, to their collarbone, then lower, to their chest. Ellis whined softly as Finn took one of their nipples between their teeth.

_“Finn,”_ Ellis sighed. “ _Finn._ Oh… _babe_ …”

Finn laughed softly as they dropped to their knees in front of Ellis. Ellis’s fingers twisted through their hair and trailed over their neck. Finn gently eased Ellis’s pants off their hips, taking their underwear with them.

“Finn… _ah_ …” Ellis’s head dropped back against the door. Finn leaned in and kissed gently along the inside of their thigh. Ellis quivered under their mouth.

“Yeah?” Finn said softly, and moved to their other thigh.

“Will you… _stop that_ and… get up here and fuck me?” Ellis said breathlessly. “ _Please._ I… I need you inside me, _right now._ ”

Finn groaned, their hands shaking. _“Oh, god,”_ they whispered. They staggered to their feet. “ _Fuck,_ I missed you.”

Ellis didn’t say a word, they just yanked Finn’s pants and underwear off of their waist and stepped out of their own pants, kicking them to the side. Finn was already hard, their cock stiff and weeping at the tip. For a moment Finn had to stand and stare at Ellis where they stood trembling against the door, completely naked, chest heaving, eyes wild, and so goddamned _beautiful_.

Both of them, nearly broken. Both of them, suffering from the wounds of their captivity, mental where almost all the rest had been physical. Violence done to their minds, not their bodies, but nearly destroying them all the same. And Ellis survived, like they had before. Like they always did. Ellis found a way to survive, even after Colleen had dealt the blow that went deepest. Even after Colleen had dealt the mortal wound. Ellis was still standing, beautiful, rough, sharp-tongued and angry but so, so soft when they were alone with Finn. _That_ is who Ellis was. _That_ is the storm made human that Finn was desperately in love with.

Ellis pulled Finn against them, rattling the door in its frame. _“Please,”_ Ellis begged. “ _Please,_ Finn. Fuck me. Please.”

Finn whimpered. They grabbed Ellis’s thighs and lifted them, pinning them against the door. Ellis wrapped their legs around Finn’s waist and pulled them into a deep kiss.

Finn carefully eased themself back, lining up against Ellis. Finn gasped at how wet Ellis was, wet and soft and warm. Finn’s skin could have caught fire. They groaned softly against Ellis’s mouth, and pressed slowly into them.

Ellis moaned as Finn filled them up. Finn’s vision went white at the feel of Ellis around their cock, clutching their shoulders, wrapping their legs so hard around their waist it almost hurt. Finn pressed their mouth against Ellis’s shoulder and began to move in them.

Ellis sighed out a breath, their head dropping back against the door. They wrapped their arms around Finn’s shoulders, their hands tangling in Finn’s hair, as Finn picked up the pace, working deeper inside Ellis, breathing in the smell of their skin and feeling their breath on their neck and becoming _lost._ Ellis’s body was the only thing that was real. Their body, their voice whimpering against Finn’s ear, growing louder, rougher as Finn fucked harder into them.

“Finn… _fuck,_ Finn… babe, I, I missed you so much, Finn, I… oh, _god_ …”

“I missed you too, babe,” Finn rasped. They adjusted their grip on Ellis’s thighs and boosted them up higher against the door. Ellis cried out softly as Finn hit the spot in them that Finn loved _so much,_ loved hearing Ellis gasp and moan and _scream_ when they hit just the right place inside them. Sweat beaded on Finn’s forehead. They dragged their tongue from Ellis’s shoulder up to their ear, and sucked gently on their earlobe.

“I thought you were dead,” Ellis whispered. Finn shivered and gripped Ellis harder. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know.” Finn nuzzled into Ellis’s neck. “I thought about you every day. Every goddamned _minute_ , Ellis. I just wanted to be with you.”

“I missed you so much,” Ellis whispered. “I missed you so much. I missed you so much. I missed you so much.” Over and over they whispered it, like a prayer.

“Now we’re together,” Finn said softly as they kissed their way from Ellis’s ear to their mouth. “And I’m never leaving you again. I’m _never_ leaving you. No one will ever take you from me again.”

Ellis moaned raggedly, and the sound twisted into something like a sob at the end. “No one will ever take you away,” they whispered back.

Finn grunted as they thrust harder into Ellis. One hand left Ellis’s thigh and went up to tangle in their hair, pulling their head to the side so they could bite down on Ellis’s neck. When Ellis let out a cry, Finn smoothed their tongue over the spot and sucked gently. _That might leave a mark_. Ellis _loved_ marks, evidence from what they did together in bed. They always wanted them under clothes, where no one else could see. Their little secret.

“I’m sorry,” Finn murmured against Ellis’s skin. “That one might bruise.”

“I don’t care,” Ellis panted. “Finn, fuck, _please,_ don’t stop, _please_ …”

Finn whimpered and shoved Ellis hard against the door, skin moving on skin, naked and tangled together and _alive._ _Ellis is alive. I’ll never be apart from them again._

Finn could feel Ellis tightening around them. Ellis’s voice was rising in pitch, the sighs and moans drawn from them with each thrust. Finn buried their face in Ellis’s neck as their own climax swelled inside them.

“Finn, _Christ,_ I missed you, I missed you… _fuck_ … _oh, god_ …”

Ellis came hard, throwing their head back against the door with a _thud,_ letting out a cry that made Finn’s cheeks burn. _They’ll hear us._

As Ellis shuddered on their cock, already moaning again, eyes squeezed shut in the half-darkness of the room, Finn’s chest ached with longing, a love so sharp they could cut themself on it. _I don’t care if they hear._ They held Ellis against the door and pressed their face into Ellis’s hair. They breathed deep the smell of Ellis, buried under layers of sweat and blood and fear but still smelling so strongly of _home_ that it nearly brought Finn to their knees. Heat flooded through them, starting at their cock and moving outward, sweeping through them, making their eyes roll back in their head.

Ellis shuddered and came on Finn’s cock again. It pushed Finn over the edge, and they fell apart into ecstasy.

Their orgasm rushed through them and they groaned against Ellis’s skin. They emptied themself into Ellis, every nerve on fire with longing for them. The heat between them cooled, leaving Finn shivering and wobbly.

Ellis moaned softly and pressed their lips to Finn’s neck. _“Thank you,”_ they whispered.

Finn turned their head to catch Ellis’s mouth and kissed them deeply. They turned, still holding Ellis tight against them. Still inside them, softening. They lay Ellis down on the bed and fell on top of them, their mouths still moving together.

“I love you,” Finn whispered against Ellis’s lips. “I want to be with you, forever. I never want to leave your side. I want to be your partner. I want to have babies with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to sit next to you when we’re both a hundred, holding hands on a little farm just like this. I want to be with you until the day I die, Ellis Price.”

Ellis giggled and cupped their hands against Finn’s face. “If you’re a hundred,” Ellis said playfully, “I’ll be a hundred and seven.”

“Fine,” Finn said, lacing their fingers through Ellis’s and pinning their hands above their head. “A hundred and seven.”

“Deal,” Ellis whispered. Their eyes fluttered shut as Finn kissed along their neck.


	4. Outnumbered in a Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: frank discussion of noncon, blaming of a noncon victim, trauma response

Isaac stumbled out of his room. The world swam slowly around him as he made his way to the kitchen, wobbling a little on the edges. _Fuck. How long was I asleep?_ Isaac rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly. He came around the corner to see the rest of the family already all in the living room, napping, reading, cuddling. Immediately Isaac’s gaze found Tori. She was huddled on one of the couches in Vera’s arms, staring off into space. Cold dread settled into Isaac’s stomach.

“M-morning, Isaac,” Gavin rasped from his seat in one of the easy chairs.

“Morning,” came the chorus of the voices just after that.

Gray smiled. “Although, it is afternoon now.” They stood and walked to Isaac. Isaac pulled them into a hug and pressed his face against their shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Isaac forced out a slow breath between his lips and trembled as he squeezed Gray harder. “Thank you for being here for us,” he whispered.

Gray chuckled softly. “Of course. Thank you for getting them here.”

“Vera did most of it,” Isaac said as he pulled away, wiping his eyes. “She…” He cast a glance at his best friend. “She did it.”

“So did you, Isaac,” Vera said softly.

The sun streamed into the windows at an odd angle. “What time is it?” Isaac murmured.

“Almost five,” Gray said gently.

Isaac’s jaw dropped. “Almost _five? PM?_ It’s… it’s still the same day, right?”

“Yes, Isaac,” Gray said as they returned to the couch. “But you needed the sleep. I imagine you’ll be able to fall asleep at a normal time tonight, too. You’ve got a lot of sleep to catch up on.”

“Um, yeah,” Isaac mumbled as he sat in the empty spot beside Sam. He yawned and drew a hand over his face. As he settled he saw Sam’s pallor, the thin sheen of sweat on their skin as they cradled their right arm. Isaac clenched his jaw and swallowed hard against the guilt that stabbed through his chest.

Edrissa sat on Sam’s other side. She looked around warily, but she no longer looked like the frightened creature they’d pulled out of a van five months ago. She looked like she was… healthy. Healing. Isaac felt a smile pull at his mouth. _Time with Gray will do that. I’m glad she’s found that peace._

“Have you all been up for a while?” Isaac said, his voice low.

“A bit,” Finn said with a grin. “We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to wake up. We should’ve checked your breathing.”

“What day is it?” Isaac mumbled.

Gray smiled sadly. “It’s Sunday.”

Isaac’s heart ached with a sort of painful throb that he thought odd, all things considered. “Did I miss Sunday breakfast?”

“Of course not, Isaac,” Sam said beside him, their voice tight. “We’re um…” They looked around the room at the rest of them. “We’re going to have it tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” Isaac said in a small voice. Why he would be sad they missed their customary big Sunday breakfast, after everything they all had been through in the past few weeks, was beyond him. But for some reason, the thought brought tears to his eyes.

The room was silent for a few minutes. The tension rose, simmering in the air, building around Gray and the question Isaac knew was coming: the question that would stoke a fire of shame in Isaac that nothing might put out. The family had endured the hell of Colleen’s torture together. But Gray? Gray might not understand. They might not understand why they all did what they had to do. And Isaac had betrayed everyone the _most._ He betrayed Sam. He begged Gavin for pleasure in the worst possible of circumstances. How could Gray understand that? How could he get forgiveness from the person to whom he promised to protect the family? He bit his lip and let his eyes slide closed, waiting for the inevitable blow, the question that might destroy Gray’s faith in him forever.

Gray cleared their throat and Isaac shivered, keeping his eyes closed. “What, um, happened?”

Isaac felt like he was being tipped over a cliff. While he held on, he felt the fear, the loneliness as he dangled in the air above an abyss. As long as he held on and the truth stayed secret, he could pretend Gray wasn’t disappointed in him. As long as no one said anything, they could still be a family, with Gray at its head.

“It’s… um…” Gavin said quietly. Isaac’s eyes flew open to see Gavin’s shift towards the floor as he spoke, shame flushing his cheeks. “It’s my fault,” Gavin whispered, his voice fading to a breath.

Gray chewed the inside of their cheek. “Somehow, Gavin…” They tilted their head at him. “…I can’t believe that’s true.”

Gavin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well… it is.” He hung his head.

“It’s not,” Isaac murmured. Gavin looked up at Isaac, and something burned behind Gavin’s eyes.

Gray looked from Isaac to Gavin with the look they’d worn just before the team left south: fascination, curiosity… and a _knowing_ that made Isaac shrink under their gaze.

“We fucked up,” Vera said from her spot on the couch. “We caught a few tails as we came into Fort Meyers. When we tried to run, they picked us up. Took us back to Colleen’s house. And she… um… h-hurt us.” Vera’s embrace tightened around Tori.

Gray’s gaze lingered on Tori. Their eyes moved over the red, inflamed spots on Tori’s neck where the shock collar had rested, and at the bruises and torn skin on her wrists as she pulled her knees closer to her chest. Gray’s eyes shone with tears and they wet their lips. “Tori?” they said hesitantly, cautiously. “Tori, can you tell me what you’ve been through?”

Tori’s eyes widened slightly, and her lips trembled. It was more of a reaction than Isaac had seen since they’d all escaped.

All at once, like a crushing blow to the head, a sickening realization broke over Isaac. He wrapped his arms around his chest and squeezed, wincing when his ribs protested. He leaned forward on the couch, his eyes fixed on Tori, this tongue already burning with what he knew he had to say. He thought he might be sick as he did it, but it had to be done. He wouldn’t ask Vera to do it.

“Tori,” he said shakingly, his stomach heaving, “You can speak.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Tori breathed.

Vera shuddered and pulled away from Tori all at once. Across the room Gavin rocked forward in a sob, pressing his hands together as he stared at Tori in absolute horror. Vera’s arms went right back around Tori and Vera clutched at her, whimpering against her shoulder.

_“No,”_ Gray heaved out, and rose from their seat. “No, _no_ …” They went to Tori’s side and knelt in front of her. “Tori… oh, god, Tori, _no_ …”

“It’s m- _my fault,_ ” Gavin moaned, and cowered into the easy chair. Tears streamed down his face.

Gray took Tori’s hand. “Tori, wh-what—”

“Colleen made Gavin hurt her,” Vera gasped. She swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Colleen made him torture her, he had to, he _had to_ … Tori _no_ …”

“T-Tori,” Gray said softly. “You’re safe now. Do you know that? Can you look around and tell me what you see?”

“Yes, sir,” Tori said softly, and obeyed. Her gaze moved slowly around the room, lighting on a lamp, a window, a table with books and cups of tea littered across it. She glanced at the blanket lying on the edge of the couch, folded and not in use. She looked into the kitchen, at the copper-granite-wood that made it seem so warm. Finally her gaze settled on Gray where they knelt in front of her, and her eyes widened further.

_“Gray,”_ she breathed.

She looked around again, frantic, her chest heaving with breaths that came faster and faster, her hands shaking as she reached for something to hold onto. “Is, is this real, is this real, is this real, is this real—”

“Breathe, Tori,” Gray said gently, raising their hand slowly as they inhaled, and dropping it slowly as they exhaled. “Breathe with me. Just like we do with Vera. Breathe in…” Their hand drifted up as they inhaled. Vera breathed with her, too, slowly drawing in the air. Isaac’s lungs expanded with them. His chest ached, but his heart ached more. “That’s it. Breathe out.” Gray pursed their lips and blew out a breath.

“But, but is this real, is this real, is this real, Gray, Gray, please, just, is this real, am I… are we, are we—”

“Tori, _breathe_ ,” Gray said, with a hint of an order in their voice. Tori obeyed immediately. _We do the same for Vera. Oh, god, Tori is hurt just like Vera and I couldn’t_ stop it _…_ “Good. Out.” Tori’s breath rushed out of her in a huff.

“Good, babe,” Vera said softly, tears running freely down her cheeks. “We’re safe. We’re together. You’re doing so well. Nice big breath in.”

Tori dragged in a breath. “But, but Gray, are we safe, are we safe, are we—” Her gaze drifted over Gray and settled on Gavin. Her mouth snapped closed and she let out a strangled sob.

Vera followed her gaze and looked back at Tori. “Tori, _no_ ,” she whimpered. “It’s not his fault. You… you _know_ it’s not his fault. He had to, Tori. You know he had to do that. We talked about it back when we were with Colleen, right? He’s not gonna hurt you now. You’re safe.”

Tori shrank back with a look of mingled hate and terror that didn’t seem to have anything of _Tori_ behind it at all. She was something else in that moment, or she was _nothing._ Isaac couldn’t tell. He barely recognized the look on Tori’s face that was quickly hardening into rage.

_“You hurt me,”_ she hissed at Gavin.

“I know,” Gavin sobbed, and pressed his face into his hands.

Tori rose slowly to her feet, hatred coiling tight in her body. Her eyes were wild with pain and fear. Isaac wanted to cut out his heart at the sight of it. He felt himself slowly rocking forward.

“You _hurt me,_ ” Tori said again, her voice a lash of bitterness. “You let them _muzzle Vera._ You let them _torture Ellis._ You let them _torture Finn._ You _hurt Sam._ You beat them. You whipped them. You let them string them up and strangle for _hours._ ”

“I _know,_ ” Gavin wailed. “I’m _sorry._ ”

Tori took a slow step forward, a snake about to deliver the killing blow. Isaac knew what came next. He was on his feet before he realized he moved.

“You…” Tori’s voice dropped to a deadly murmur. “You _raped Isaac._ ”

_“What?”_ Ellis and Edrissa gasped at the same time.

“It wasn’t like that, Tori,” Isaac croaked. “You _know that._ He didn’t want to do it. It was either that, or be killed.”

“Then he should have _died._ ” Tori’s voice cracked like a whip.

_“No,”_ Isaac growled, taking a step between Tori and Gavin. “If he didn’t do it, Colleen would have killed _me_.”

Tori quivered where she stood, biting down hard on her lip, sobs working their way up her throat. She flinched when Vera gently laid a hand on Tori’s shoulder.

“You did _what?_ ” Ellis snarled. Isaac spun to see Ellis descending on Gavin with a deadly fury twisting their features. Gavin held perfectly still and closed his eyes, waiting for Ellis to deliver a blow.

Isaac lunged between them. _“NO,”_ he said desperately. Ellis tried to shove past him. Isaac nearly cried out as pain shot through his ribs. “Ellis, he’s… he was raped, too, just as much as I was. It’s not his fault. It’s not his—”

“Don’t treat him like he’s a fucking _victim,_ ” Ellis snapped, and tried again to move on Gavin.

“He _is,_ ” Isaac gasped. “Colleen said she was going to kill me if he didn’t. Waterboard me to death. It’s _not his fault._ ” Gavin heaved a sob behind him. Isaac glanced back, and his heart lurched. Gavin was crumbling, falling into himself like a dying star, destroying himself from the inside out. _NO,_ Isaac wailed inside his own mind. _He can’t take this on himself. Not again._

Ellis stuck a finger in Isaac’s face. “Don’t you _dare defend him, Isaac,_ ” they snarled in his face. “ _You’re_ the one he raped.”

“And you don’t speak for me,” Isaac said furiously, tears brimming in his eyes. He angrily dashed them away.

“Babe,” Finn said softly, approaching Ellis, “It’s not his fault. Truly. This is—”

“If he did that, I have _no idea_ what else he did,” Ellis said viciously, turning on Finn. “Did he enjoy locking me up and making me think I was responsible for your death? Did he _like_ hurting Tori so much she came out like _that?_ ” Ellis flung a hand in Tori’s direction. Gavin flinched.

“Ellis…” Gray approached them, standing in front of them with their hands to their sides. Nonthreatening, but also forming a wall between Ellis and Gavin. Isaac was shocked to see… _anger_ darkening Gray’s features. “Do _not_ blame Gavin for this. This was rape of _both_ of them, not just Isaac.”

_“You weren’t there,”_ Ellis spat at Gray.

“Neither were you, from what I can tell,” Gray said gently.

Ellis reeled back like they’d been slapped. Their mouth fell open, their eyes wide.

“ _Nothing_ forgives what he did,” Tori whimpered.

_“I do,”_ Isaac said through his teeth. Gavin gasped behind him. Isaac couldn’t stand to turn and see the look on his face.

“How could he be so… fucking _disgusting_ …” Ellis said weakly.

Gray’s eyes flashed. _“Stop,”_ they said, their voice ringing with authority. “Gavin couldn’t consent to this with the threat of death hanging over him if he refused. By _definition of the word,_ that is rape. Don’t you _dare_ blame him for his own rape, Ellis.” Gray drew themself to their full height, towering over Ellis, the lines of their face hardening into something like steel. _“None of this is his fault.”_

Ellis’s lip quivered, and they fell back a step. Their gaze dropped to Gavin where he sat crumpled behind Isaac, gasping with sobs. Another wave of grief rocked Isaac as something Ellis said jolted through him:

_Did he enjoy locking me up and making me think I was responsible for your death?_

_Ellis blames themself, too._

“Ellis,” Isaac said softly. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill us.”

Something in Ellis broke. They staggered back and howled against their own hand as they pressed it to their lips. Finn pulled them into an embrace and guided them back to the couch. Ellis buried their face in Finn’s shirt and wailed as Finn’s arms tightened around them.

“But he… he hurt me,” Tori said in a small voice. She shrank back as Gray turned to face her.

“I know he did,” Gray said gently. “I know. Nothing takes that hurt away. But… you know it was Colleen, right? It was Gavin’s hands that did it, but Colleen was forcing him to?”

“Y-yes, but…” Tori hiccoughed and sobbed as Vera pulled her into an embrace. “…I just wanted it to stop.”

“So did I,” Gavin whimpered. “I… I’m _so sorry,_ Tori.”

Tori’s head fell forward. Tears dripped silently down her nose and onto the floor. “Couldn’t you just…” She swallowed hard. “Couldn’t you just have let her kill you?”

Gavin’s breath rushed out of him like he’d been punched. _“Oh,”_ he breathed.

“Oh, Tori… _no_ …” Vera’s hands shook.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ …” Gavin whimpered and stood from the easy chair, backing away from all of them.

Isaac’s hand shot up and reached for Gavin without Isaac thinking about it. “Gavin—”

“Gavin, you’re alright,” Gray said steadily. “Take a deep breath.”

_He can’t blame himself for this. He_ can’t. _Gavin, oh god, you’re carrying the burden of all of this when it was_ my fault _…_ Isaac clutched at the knife in his chest. His hands closed around empty air. He swayed where he stood.

“Isaac…?” Vera’s face appeared in front of him.

Dizzily, Isaac saw Gray standing between Gavin and Tori, torn between both of them and their pain. Isaac’s hand went up to pull away the hand tightening around his throat. He was choking on air.

“Isaac, deep breath,” Vera urged. He stumbled and reached out for something to grab onto. Vera grabbed his arm and jerked him upright.

“F- _fuck_ ,” he gasped. “Not his fault. Please, it’s… it’s not his fault…”

“Gray, you okay here?” Vera threw over her shoulder. “Can you handle—”

“Absolutely,” Gray said, their voice like a rock held firmly in the ground. Unmoving. Unwavering.

“Isaac, we’re going,” Vera said as she jerked him towards the door. “You and me. On a walk. Right now.”

Isaac reached back for Gavin where he stood trembling, his shoulders rocking forward with each sob. “Not his fault,” Isaac croaked.

“I know,” Vera said fiercely. “Let’s go talk.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw discussion of noncon

Isaac stumbled out the front door with Vera’s hand clamped down firmly on his arm. He staggered several feet forward before he stopped and braced his hands on his knees, breathing hard, each breath twisting into a sob. Tears streamed down his face.

Vera rubbed circles on Isaac’s shoulder. “Come on, Isaac,” she murmured. “Let’s get you moving. Work this out of your body.”

Isaac stood, his head dropping back as he grasped for air. “Ah, he, he _blames himself, Vera,_ he shouldn’t do that, he blames himself, he _blames himself_ …”

“Shh,” she murmured. She grasped his shoulders and shook him gently. “Hey. Breathe. Normally. Deep inhale. Come on, do it with me.” She drew in a slow breath through her nose, and Isaac did his best to copy her. His nose was stuffy. “Good. Out.” She blew out a slow breath, and he followed, his lips trembling. The anguish crawling under his skin relieved a little.

“Again,” Vera said softly. “You’re doing so well. Come on. In…” She drew in a deep breath, and he was able to follow her. “…out.” She blew out a breath. He exhaled slowly. “Good.”

Isaac’s head dropped forward. “He blames himself,” Isaac whispered.

“I know,” Vera said softly. “Come on. Let’s walk. We’ve been sitting in cars for two days.”

“And locked down in chains for nearly a _month,_ ” Isaac said bitterly.

Vera was silent for a moment. “Yeah,” she murmured. “That, too.”

They walked in silence for a while, along a path that went around the house, into the backyard, and down through a field towards the lake. The water shimmered in the afternoon sun. Vera turned and walked along the edge of the water, her shoes sinking into the sand. Isaac’s chest hurt as he fought to steady his breaths.

Vera wet her lips and opened her mouth to speak. Her breath caught in her throat for a long time before she finally rasped, “I know you blame yourself, too.”

Tears burned suddenly in Isaac’s eyes, and he looked down at the ground. Looked at the rhythmic movement of shoes on sand, _step, step, step, step_ as he pushed down the rising shame.

Vera cleared her throat and pressed on. “And I know he doesn’t blame you for whatever happened between you.”

Isaac’s eyes fell shut for a moment and he grunted like he’d taken a blow to the chest. “You don’t know that,” he whispered through a throat that felt like it was closing.

“I do, actually,” Vera said softly. “At Topher and Lucy’s house, we talked. He thinks he’s fully responsible for what happened. He doesn’t blame you at all.”

“He hates—”

“He doesn’t _hate you,_ ” Vera huffed in exasperation. Isaac chewed his lip. “He doesn’t _hate you,_ ” Vera said again, quieter.

“It… it wasn’t…” Isaac’s voice broke. “It wasn’t _sleeping together._ ”

“No, it wasn’t,” Vera said carefully.

“Then why…?” Isaac wavered, sure that if he said what was pounding through his mind he would crumple into dust. Shatter into a million pieces. He was sure that if he dragged out the dark, ragged core of his shame and showed it to Vera, showed it to the light, he would break. He would _die_. There would be nothing of him left, nothing to support him under the weight of the terrible, crushing guilt of what he had done to Gavin.

_It hurts more to keep that secret._

The air hung empty in the shape of the truth and Isaac _had_ to fill it. Everything would shake apart and collapse if he didn’t. He had to put a name to what had been burning him alive for weeks, had cracked his soul beyond repair. He _had_ to speak the poison that had been burrowing into his mind from that first night with Gavin.

_“Then why did I like it?”_ he whispered, and fell apart. He dropped to his knees like his strings had been cut. He buried his face in his hands and _screamed._

Vera’s arms came around him. He clutched at her and dragged her into a hug. He wailed against her shoulder, his mouth open and pressed against her shirt as he sobbed. Every fiber of his being cried out at once in agony, in despair, in paralyzing terror that Vera, his best friend in the whole world, and the victim of brutality _so much worse_ than what he’d been through, now knew what he was. She knew now that he was _worse_ than a monster, because as Gavin sobbed over him and did what he had to do, Isaac fell in love with him.

He fell…

“Oh, _shit,_ ” Isaac gasped.

Vera pulled away and inspected his face. “Oh shit what?” she said softly, worriedly.

“Oh, shit. Oh, _fuck_.” Isaac covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh, _no._ ”

“Isaac, talk to me. Please.” Vera’s eyebrows pulled together and she chewed her lip as she looked at him. “What’s going on?”

“I… he…” Isaac gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh, _no_ …”

_“Isaac…”_ Vera placed her hands on either side of his face. “Isaac, _what is it?_ ”

“I, I lo—” Isaac whimpered and wet his lips. “I _love him_.”

Vera released Isaac’s face and sat back on her heels. Her mouth opened, then closed again. She stared at a spot in the sand. “Huh.”

Isaac cowered on his knees. “Oh, _god,_ ” he whispered, and covered his head with his hands. “Oh, _no_. How could I… after I… d-did that to him, and I… I asked him to… after he had to, to do that to me, he hated it, how could I…?” He looked up at her, desperate for something. For her judgment, for the moment where she would tell him that he was disgusting and vile and she never wanted to see him again. He couldn’t wait any longer. His skin itched for her hatred so he wouldn’t have to hate _himself_ so much.

“What did you do, Isaac?” Vera said, looking at him again in confusion. “What happened?”

Isaac moaned. “Oh, god, I…” He trembled and rocked forward, bowing his head. “I…” He whined softly. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and sagged forward until his forehead nearly brushed the sand.

_“I asked him to make me feel good.”_

Isaac let out a shuddering breath. He felt like he’d just drawn an arrow from a fatal wound. Nothing left to do but bleed out.

“Oh, Isaac,” Vera breathed. “Oh. Isaac… _You don’t have to be ashamed about that._ ”

Isaac heaved a sob. “Yes I _do!_ ” he cried. “I _do,_ because h-he was having to, to do something _awful,_ and I didn’t help. I made it _worse._ I asked him for something that is… is _so bad_ because he had to, to make that sacrifice and I didn’t have to feel good, _why did it have to feel good?_ ” Isaac wailed. “ _Why_ did it have to feel good? Why couldn’t it have been… have been _awful,_ so I wouldn’t, wouldn’t want him still? Why couldn’t it have been…” Isaac tore his hands through his hair. “Why did I… why do I have to _love him,_ after I made him do that? When I… He hates me now, and I _deserve_ it, but what the fuck is _wrong with me_ that I’d love him after this? After, after, oh, _fuck_ …”

Vera pulled him back into her arms. She rocked from side to side with him, kneeling in front of him, letting him cling to her like his life depended on it. She held him as he sobbed against her shoulder, her shirt growing wet with his tears.

After a very long time, Isaac’s sobs began to quiet. He felt like something massive had been dragged out of his chest, something heavy, with sharp edges and broken shards, tearing him up from the inside but still _gone_. He ached with its absence. He whimpered at the feeling of emptiness. A transient thought floated through his mind, catching on the open wounds there.

_What’s left of me, without my shame?_

He shuddered. Vera leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. Isaac was terrified to look at her. When he finally found the courage to lift his gaze to her face, her eyes swam with tears. She looked far away. Her mouth twisted.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered. “Vera? Are you—”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Um…” She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands. When she spoke, there was a brokenness to her voice that broke Isaac’s heart.

“Wh-when I was with Joseph,” she said softly, “He would…” She let out a breath in a sort of hopeless whimper. “He would… um…” She flushed a brilliant red, the blood darkening her skin in a way that looked _painful._ “He… would…” Her voice shook. “…p-pleasure me.”

Isaac’s shoulders fell. “Oh,” he breathed.

“He would rape me, and hurt me, and that was… was _normal,_ but sometimes he would, ah…” Vera pulled her hair over her shoulder, covering her neck in a way that looked unconscious. “He would sometimes, um, make me come. He w-would force me to. The, the last party I remember he…” Vera whimpered. Her hands trembled.

Isaac reached out with one hand. “Can I touch you?” he said gently. She nodded. His hand covered hers. He took one of her hands and squeezed. She squeezed back.

Vera took a steadying breath. “The, the last party, he, um… he and his buddies wanted to see how, how many, um, times they could make me come. But I… I did… things.” Vera shook her head slowly. “I, um, preferred that. I sometimes, ah, hoped that’s what he would do, instead of… instead of…” Her voice dropped. “The other things,” she whispered.

“But that was different,” Isaac protested. “That was—”

“After Ryan died,” Vera said painfully, “Joseph told me he was going to, to fuck me. And if I didn’t come, he would punish me.” Vera rolled her shoulders back. “He was trying to make me forget Ryan. He was trying to force me to forget him. But I… I needed to come. So I, um…” Vera whimpered. “…I imagined making love to Ryan. He was dead already, and he _never_ wanted to do that do me, but I… I imagined him. Fucking me. And kissing me. He was dead, and I used him that way.” Vera wiped her eyes.

“Oh,” Isaac murmured.

“Yeah,” Vera said bitterly. “So when you say you’re… when you lose yourself in the guilt…” Vera cleared her throat. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a reprieve from pain. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting pleasure when all you have is torture.” She squeezed his hands again. “And there’s nothing wrong with loving who you love.”

Isaac’s face fell. His eyes felt raw from crying. He shook his head, and felt a weight descend on his shoulders. “V-Vera, I…”

Vera’s head fell back, her eyes closed. Finally she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders in a _fuck it_ motion. “Have you told him how you feel?”

Isaac reeled back. “ _What?_ Of _course_ not. I could never—”

Vera’s head dropped into her hands. “Christ, you two. I just… I just can’t. Jesus Christ.”

Isaac looked at her carefully. “Us… two?” _Oh, no. If she finds out…_ He paused for a moment. _Maybe she wouldn’t kill him now. Maybe we’ve all been through enough together so that…_

“Isaac…” Vera sighed. “We don’t get to pick who we love. Like, yeah, if you told me six months ago you had the hots for Gavin I would have _seriously_ questioned your sanity. But… now…” She shrugged. “He’s one of us, now. He’s sacrificed just as much as we have. He had the opportunity to betray us, and he didn’t. He had _every_ opportunity. And he saved us instead. He was willing to _die_ to save us. Which, you know…” Vera blew out a breath as she shrugged. “Maybe not the _healthiest_ of viewpoints, but then considering who I’m talking to, that message might not get across at all.”

Hurt pricked at Isaac’s mind until he realized Vera was _smiling_ at him. Something shifted in him, something that had felt rock-solid before but now felt like the inevitable rumble of a rockslide starting once the right pebble was worn away. Something hot and terrifying poured through his blood, flushing his skin until he felt like it would melt off his body. His chest tightened painfully, but… he welcomed the ache. His mouth fell open slightly and he trembled under Vera’s gaze.

Isaac gasped. “Wh… what if he…?”

“Only one way to find out, dumbass,” Vera said with a smile that didn’t completely relax the lines of pain around her eyes.

Suddenly, Isaac _had_ to see Gavin. He needed to talk to Gavin, like he needed air in his lungs. Like he needed blood in his veins. He staggered to his feet and took a heavy step towards the house.

He froze. “Vera, you—”

“Go ahead,” Vera said softly. “I need to talk to Tori, anyway. Go talk this out, dumbass.”

Isaac pulled Vera to her feet into a frantic hug and tore off towards the house. He knew Gavin might hate him, push him away, tell Isaac he _never_ wanted to see him again. He might also be gentle about it, tell him no and leave it at that.

_But he might…_

Isaac quashed the thought. He knew Gavin no longer felt anything for him. He’d seen it. Isaac just wanted to _tell him._ He wanted to unload the burden that had crushed him for weeks, the secret feelings he could never tell _anyone,_ but had told Vera all the same. And Vera hadn’t condemned him. Hadn’t cast him aside. And she, of all people, deserved to do so.

Still, Isaac couldn’t completely extinguish the tiny flame of hope that flickered in his chest, and that question that kept circling in his mind no matter how many times he tried to push it away: _what if he still has feelings for me, too?_


	6. Chapter 6

Isaac’s feet pounded on the path back to the house. Each impact sent a jolt through his ribs and he pressed his hand against his chest. He wasn’t sure if the pain was from the bullet, or from the _ache_ Isaac had carried for weeks in his heart. When he reached the sliding back door, he flung it open. He didn’t turn to close it. He kicked off his shoes and let them drop outside. He dashed through the laundry room and down the hall, to the rows of bedroom doors. He skidded to a stop outside Gavin’s door. He lifted his fist to knock.

His heart lurched. _What if Gavin’s not in his room? What if he’s still in the living room, with the others? What if Ellis hurt him more? What if he left entirely to get some air?_ Isaac had to talk to Gavin, _right now._ His skin was on fire with it. He swallowed hard and took a breath. He knocked, his heart in his throat. He couldn’t tell if he heard rustling behind the door past the roaring in his ears.

Isaac felt like his heart would burst in his chest as the handle turned, and the door opened.

Gavin stood in the doorway, his eyes red from crying and cast down to the floor. Gavin cleared his throat. “Um, G-Gray, I…” He lifted his eyes and froze when they met Isaac’s. “I-Isaac…”

“Can I come in?” Isaac gasped, still out of breath from running. His chest was shot through with pain with every breath.

Gavin seemed to brace for something, the _despair_ on his face seeming to freeze and harden. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand tightening on the door. He nodded once and pulled the door open wider. “Yeah, Isaac,” he murmured. “Come on in.”

Isaac’s heart swelled as he stepped through the threshold into Gavin’s room. Gavin closed the door behind Isaac and walked slowly to his bed. He sat against the headboard and pulled his knees up to his chest. Isaac could see shame in every line of Gavin’s body, and he _ached._

Isaac glanced around the room. There was nowhere to sit. No chairs, no chest at the foot of the bed. Nothing but the bed. Isaac swallowed hard. His face flushed as he glanced at the foot of Gavin’s bed. “Can I… um…” He wet his lips. _Oh my god._ “Can I sit?”

Gavin barely glanced up, but nodded. Isaac walked slowly to the bed on numb legs. He all but collapsed as he sat down.

There was a miserable silence as Gavin stared at patchwork bedspread, his arms around his knees, clasping the opposite elbow so hard his knuckles were white. He trembled as Isaac tried to decide where to rest his hands. Suddenly he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Um…” Gavin cleared his throat. “What’s, what’s up, Isaac?” His voice shook, and he kept his eyes riveted to the bedspread.

Isaac’s throat was closing. He couldn’t breathe. The words were forcing themselves up out of his lungs, but he couldn’t _say_ them. He whimpered softly as he choked. _I love you. I want you. I’m sorry you hurt because of me. I never wanted to hurt you. Thank you for saving us. Please, please, I never want to lose you again._

For the first time, Gavin raised his eyes to look at Isaac. He leaned forward just slightly, his hand reaching a few inches in Isaac’s direction. Gavin froze. His hand curled into a fist.

“Um,” Isaac rasped. The words tore at his throat. “Gavin, I…” He met Gavin’s gaze. “I know you didn’t want to,” Isaac whispered.

Gavin’s eyes fell shut. “Oh. Isaac… I—”

“And I’m sorry for, for asking you to… do that.” Isaac trailed off into a pathetic silence. Everything he left unsaid burned like acid on his tongue.

Gavin’s eyes flew open. “You… _what?_ ”

Isaac swallowed down the words he couldn’t say, tried to find the ones he _could_. “Um…” His mouth felt dry as chalk. “At, um… your mo— at Colleen’s house,” Isaac said softly. “When I asked you to… um…”

Gavin flushed a brilliant red that crept down his neck, to the tips of his ears. “Isaac, you…” Gavin ran his hands clumsily through his hair. “You were being… being _tortured._ By _me._ I don’t blame you for, um, wanting a r-reprieve. I’m…” Gavin slumped back against the headboard. “I’m glad I could give that to you,” he murmured.

Isaac bit his lip. He couldn’t stand the tension, the not knowing. He wanted to tell Gavin. To _know,_ no matter what the answer was. At least then, he’d know. At least then, he could move on, live with his love for Gavin. Find a way to be happy. He just needed to hear it. He shoved down the smoldering flame of hope inside him.

“Gavin, I…” Isaac trailed off into a whimper. Gavin’s gaze fixed on Isaac, and he leaned closer. Isaac wet his lips and prepared himself for the blow. “Gavin… do you still feel something for me?”

Gavin’s eyes went wide and he fell back against the headboard. Tears swam in his eyes. He raised his gaze to Isaac in a tortured expression. “Isaac…”

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Isaac said in a rush, feeling everything crumble, the rubble starting to crush him. “Please. I don’t want you to… I don’t want…” Isaac put his face in his hands.

“Isaac,” Gavin gasped. Isaac raised his head to look at Gavin. Tears ran down his cheeks now, staring at Isaac with grief mingled with something like _hope._ “It’s like I told you at Topher and Lucy’s place,” Gavin whispered. “I… I never stopped.”

The floor dropped out of Isaac’s world and he was falling. He felt swept in an icy current, battered about as he continued to fall, spinning, stomach lurching, waiting to hit the ground, be dashed upon the rocks. He waited for the hard stop that would shatter Isaac into pieces. He waited to Gavin to take it back. Say he was joking. Say that’s not what he meant.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin murmured.

“No, Gavin, I…” Isaac’s hands shook. He _burned_ with longing. He ached for the feeling of Gavin’s hands on him again, but _safe_ this time. He ached for the feeling of Gavin’s lips on his, not like the clumsy confession, not like the frantic thunderclap of relief that Isaac felt when Vera dragged Gavin out of the Stormbeck house. He wanted Gavin, the way he thought Gavin might want him as Gavin held Isaac in his bed. The way he thought Gavin might want him as they stood together in Lucy and Topher’s garage, Isaac’s neck free of the collar for the first time in weeks, free of Gavin’s claim on his body. He wanted Gavin like it was something inevitable: the tide pulling out to sea, the continents crushing together, the moon in its phases every single night. He wanted Gavin like he wanted touch. Like he wanted _home._ He didn’t know how, or why, but he didn’t _care._ He wanted Gavin, and now he knew Gavin still wanted him, too.

“Gavin,” Isaac croaked, his stomach twisting itself in knots.

“Hm?” Another tear ran down Gavin’s cheek.

“I…” Isaac’s voice faltered. He cleared his throat. “…I feel something for you, too.”

Gavin raised his head slowly, as if the words were reaching him from miles away. His eyes carried a haunted, desperate hope that punched through Isaac’s chest. He wet his lips and shook his head. “P-please, don’t… don’t _lie to me,_ Isaac,” he whimpered. His hands went down to clutch the bedspread. “Isaac, you… you can’t… Isaac, _please,_ if you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not,” Isaac said softly. He pushed himself forward, closer to Gavin.

Gavin trembled and searched Isaac’s face with his gaze. “Isaac, how… _why?_ For… for _how long?_ ”

Isaac bit his lip. He shuddered at the memory. Leo’s voice crept under his skin and left hooks in his flesh. Isaac hands clenched into fists as he remembered the look of vicious glee on Leo’s face as he cut into Gavin, again and again as his mother ordered it. His hands shook as he remembered Leo cutting along the lines _Isaac_ had made on Gavin’s back. Isaac’s head fell forward. He forced a breath out between his lips.

“Since the night we were taken,” Isaac murmured.

Gavin’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open in a whimper. _“Isaac,”_ he breathed.

“Gavin, please, just… just let me say this,” Isaac said, holding his hands out beseechingly to Gavin. “I… I watched what Leo did to you. I _watched_ you take torture for us, and lie for us to save us. I watched you be _so fucking strong,_ Gavin.” Tears pricked Isaac’s eyes. “I watched you… _lose_ yourself as you lied to her. You pretended to be someone else, so we could escape. I watched you protect us in a thousand little ways from her. I _know_ you protected me with everything you did. And I…” Isaac moved close enough to Gavin that he could touch him if he reached out. “You did what you had to do, Gavin. And so did I. Even with… with _that._ ” Isaac finally did reach out and took both of Gavin’s hands in his. Gavin went still at the touch. “But now… Gavin, you… you’re _Gavin Uriah_. You’re our family. _My family._ And I…” Isaac trembled with the need that had settled deep in his bones, the need that was driving him _crazy_ as he just wanted to reach out and _hold_ Gavin. Isaac leaned forward further. “Gavin… I want you, too.”

Gavin bit down on his lip as he met Isaac’s gaze. His mouth opened, and Isaac could see there were a thousand things flying through Gavin’s mind. Isaac moved closer. He squeezed Gavin’s hands, then let them go. Isaac’s hands went up to gently cup Gavin’s face. Gavin’s eyes widened and fixed on Isaac as Isaac drew his thumb gently across Gavin’s mouth. Isaac closed his eyes and leaned forward until he could feel Gavin’s breath on his face. He pressed his forehead against Gavin’s and held him there, trembling.

“No matter what you were,” Isaac whispered, “No matter what you did, you’re our family now. You have Gray’s name. You’re one of us. You… you’re _good._ So…” Isaac paused as Gavin’s hands went up to wrap around Isaac’s wrists. The touch was so gentle over the bandages that still wound around Isaac’s wrists, over the stitches Finn had to do when Isaac tore his skin against the handcuffs. Instead of pulling Isaac away, Gavin gently stroked the backs of Isaac’s hands with his thumbs as he leaned forward against Isaac. Isaac wet his lips. “If I want you, and you want me…”

_“Please,”_ Gavin breathed, and tilted his head up. Isaac trembled and held his breath. He pressed his lips softly against Gavin’s.

A rush of something sweet and desperate, a feeling of _finally, finally, finally_ swept through Isaac like a tidal wave. He trembled at the feeling of something falling into place, something that had the inevitable momentum of the past few months behind it, crashing through his soul and leaving him gasping on the shore. Gavin melted in Isaac’s hands and whimpered as he opened his mouth to Isaac, his hands moving from Isaac’s wrists to tangle in his shirt. That same fire from before, but stronger, _deeper,_ lit in Isaac’s blood and raced through his veins. Isaac ran his tongue gently across Gavin’s lower lip, tasting him, and Gavin moaned.

Shyness crept into Isaac’s mind, and shivered at the feeling of Gavin’s lips on his. They’d been together so many times now, Gavin forced to take him, and Isaac forced to take it. But that was torture. That was coercion. This… this was something more powerful than anything Isaac had ever felt, something that swept away the torture and pain and left nothing but heat, and the feeling of Gavin’s mouth and hands on him. Suddenly, Isaac wanted more. He _needed_ more.

Without breaking the kiss, Isaac pushed himself up so he was kneeling on the bed and pulled Gavin closer. He could smell Gavin all around him, the smell of soap and skin and something raw beneath all that, something that was Gavin’s alone. Isaac opened his mouth and pressed the kiss deeper.

“You showered,” Isaac realized out loud.

“Yeah,” Gavin breathed against Isaac’s lips. “Before you woke up.”

“Oh.” Uncertainty washed through Isaac, every single reason he could think of that Gavin wouldn’t want him, and being still _soiled_ by the torture was suddenly at the top of the list. Isaac pulled away slightly. “I haven’t—”

“I don’t care,” Gavin gasped, and pulled Isaac harder against his lips.

Isaac moaned and fell with Gavin onto the bed. He pressed Gavin down into the mattress and stopped when Gavin jerked slightly. Isaac’s gaze moved over Gavin’s face, his eyebrows pulling together. “Gavin? Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Gavin said tightly. “Just… my back. It’s mostly healed but… still stings sometimes.”

“Oh, shit,” Isaac whispered. “Gavin, I… I’m sorry, we can—”

“I want you on top of me,” Gavin said fiercely, and gripped Isaac’s waistband to pull him closer. “I don’t want you on your back.”

As Gavin pulled their hips together, Isaac gasped and pressed his lips against Gavin’s throat. “Gavin, I…”

_“Please,”_ Gavin breathed. “I want to, um… I want to feel you.”

Isaac’s head dropped onto Gavin’s shoulder and he groaned. _“Fuck.”_

“What is it?” Gavin asked with his lips against Isaac’s ear.

“I, um…” Gavin arched up against Isaac, and suddenly Isaac couldn’t concentrate. “I, I w-want you, I’m just… um…” Isaac swallowed hard as Gavin cupped his chin and pulled him in for another kiss. He murmured against Gavin’s lips, “I’m not, um, good at this stuff.”

Gavin laughed softly and let his head fall back against the pillow. He rolled his hips and Isaac was shocked to feel a hardness pressed against his thigh. “I just want you, Isaac,” Gavin murmured. “I… don’t really know how to do this right, considering…” He trailed off into silence and kissed Isaac’s neck, just below the curve of his jaw. “…but we can figure it out, right? I just want to be with you. I don’t need… anything from you. I just want to be with you. In every way there is.”

Gavin’s words went straight to the heat building between Isaac’s legs. His breath caught in his throat. “Then, um…” He pushed away from Gavin and sat up. “Then I want to go… um… get something.” He quickly stood and all but tripped out the door. He headed for the bathroom, leaving Gavin sitting up confused on the bed. Isaac knew exactly what he wanted. He’d seen them in the bathroom when he’d gotten up at some point in the night. _I don’t think they’re for us, but…_ He walked into the bathroom with a sort of surreal fogginess in his mind. He opened one of the drawers in the vanity. His gaze moved over the contents, and his face flushed a brilliant red. He avoided his own gaze in the mirror. With shaking hands, he took what he needed, and returned to Gavin’s room with a few condoms, and lube.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for past torture/noncon

Isaac tried to keep the condoms and lube in his hand mostly concealed from Gavin. Despite his efforts when he came back into the room, Gavin’s gaze flicked immediately to Isaac’s hand, then back to Isaac’s face with a look of near-shock.

Gavin wet his lips. “I-Isaac,” he said softly. “You don’t… you don’t _have to._ I—”

“I just want them, um, just in case,” Isaac said softly. He stashed them in the drawer in Gavin’s nightstand, out of sight. He sat on the bed and looked down at the bedspread, picking at a loose thread, hardly daring to breathe. He could feel Gavin’s gaze on his face like a physical touch.

“Isaac,” Gavin murmured, and Isaac forced himself to look up at Gavin.

A shiver ran down Isaac’s spine. “Y-yeah?”

Gavin chewed his lip as he met Isaac’s eyes. “Can I… um…” He cleared his throat. “Can I… uh… see you?”

Isaac’s heart lurched and he leaned back with a whimper. The torture had been something different, a violation of Isaac’s body. But… to be _seen?_ To have Gavin’s eyes running over the scars _he made,_ seeing Isaac in all his brokenness, all his pain? All Isaac wanted to do was cover himself. Even through their mutual rape, Gavin hadn’t seen Isaac’s scars. Isaac’s pain was a sacred thing he’d built an altar for in his mind, somewhere no one could touch. Somewhere no one could find. And Gavin had just walked up to the front door and knocked.

Isaac’s trembling hands went to the hem of his shirt. He stopped, rocked with something that bordered on _terror._ If he showed Gavin his scars, there would be no turning back from that. Gavin would see all the ways Isaac had broken, and he would cast Isaac aside, _leave_ Isaac, remember that there were better people in a better world that were _worthy_ of Gavin’s time and love. Even though Gavin was there when Isaac broke, the marks he left were something Isaac hid away like a secret shame. Not even his family had seen his scars. He couldn’t bear to show them to anyone.

The thought that Gavin _might not_ push him away, might see them, and accept them, and love Isaac for it… was nearly unbearable. He didn’t _want_ anyone in that place where his pain lived. The pain was his own, and no one else’s. The idea that Gavin might even love him there, too was insanity. It was destruction. It was annihilation.

_But my family has seen the scars in my mind,_ Isaac thought with a crushing realization. _They’ve_ all _seen how I’ve fallen apart and screamed and nearly broken from it. They all stay._

_Even Gavin._

Isaac blew out a slow breath as his fingers curled around the hem of his shirt. “I’m scared,” he whispered tremulously.

Gavin chewed his lip, and nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “Then… let me…” He took Isaac’s hand and pulled him closer. Gavin guided Isaac’s hand to Gavin’s hip and pressed it there. Gavin slipped Isaac’s hand up under his shirt. “I want you to see me,” Gavin murmured.

Isaac drew in a quick breath as Gavin guided Isaac’s hand over his stomach, around his side, under his shirt as Isaac touched his skin. Isaac trailed his fingers over Gavin’s ribs and brushed them against Gavin’s chest, pulling the shirt up with it. Finally, Isaac put both his hands on Gavin and pulled his shirt off over his head.

Isaac’s eyes went immediately to the scar on the right side of Gavin’s chest, just below the collarbone. The small circle of lighter skin with a thin slash marked by suture scars on either side moved as Gavin breathed. Isaac slowly raised his gaze to Gavin’s face.

Gavin shrugged awkwardly. “It’s… yeah.” Isaac leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to the scar. At Gavin’s quick intake of breath Isaac put his hands on Gavin’s waist and lightly gripped him there. He kissed his way across Gavin’s collarbone, up his neck, across his jaw, finally landing on Gavin’s lips. Gavin immediately opened his mouth to Isaac.

“Turn around,” Isaac said softly, and he could have sworn Gavin shivered with the words. Gavin turned and faced the headboard, showing Isaac his back.

Isaac bit his lip at the silvery stripes that crossed Gavin’s back, some caused by Gray but _most_ of them caused by Isaac. Some pink lines carved across his skin, too, much more recent. Cuts from Leo’s knife.

“It’s stupid,” Gavin said, his head drooping. “It’s mostly healed, and most of them aren’t even that deep. But it—”

“It’s not stupid,” Isaac said gently. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against one of the stripes across Gavin’s shoulder blades.

Gavin shuddered and reached out to grip the headboard. _“Isaac,”_ he gasped.

Isaac pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, embarrassment curdling in his stomach. “I don’t—”

“P- _please_ do that again,” Gavin breathed.

Isaac went still for a moment. Gavin looked over his shoulder and met Isaac’s gaze. Something burned in Gavin’s eyes. “Isaac…” He licked his lips. _“You feel good.”_

Isaac blew out a shuddering breath. “Oh,” he whispered. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to another stripe, this one layered over with a fresh, thin, haphazard scar that followed the general line of it. Gavin’s head fell back and he sighed.

Isaac moved closer to Gavin until their hips were flush together, his chest against Gavin’s back. Gavin stiffened and shivered at Isaac’s breath on his ear. Isaac’s hand went up to wrap gently around Gavin’s neck. Gavin whimpered softly and arched his head back, pressing himself back against Isaac. Isaac’s other hand gripped Gavin’s hip and, oh so slightly, he rolled his hips against Gavin.

_“Ahh,”_ Gavin moaned as Isaac leaned back and dragged his tongue across another stripe that stretched across one shoulder blade. “Isaac…”

“Yeah?” He kissed Gavin’s shoulder.

“G-god, you’re…” Gavin turned his head and caught Isaac’s mouth in a kiss.

Isaac’s breaths came faster, and his hand drifted across the front of Gavin’s pants. Gavin’s hips stuttered and rocked back into Isaac’s for a moment. _“Fuck.”_

“Is this okay?” Isaac said gently. His hand moved down from Gavin’s throat, across his chest.

“Y-yeah,” Gavin breathed. “Yeah. Really, really okay.”

Isaac’s hand drifted farther, and he palmed Gavin over his pants.

Gavin gasped and let out a moan and pushed his hips against Isaac’s hand. He felt already hard through his pants, and Isaac reached for Gavin’s belt buckle.

Gavin gasped, and his hand flew down to cover Isaac’s. “Isaac, w- _wait._ ”

Isaac froze. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He pulled away from Gavin and sat back on his heels.

Gavin turned to face him. “No, no, it’s okay, I _want_ that, but…” A sadness moved behind Gavin’s eyes that made Isaac’s heart lurch. “I… I want to _see you_ first. I want you to know that I… ah…” Gavin moved closer and took Isaac’s hand. “That I see you and, um, won’t leave.”

Isaac trembled and bit down hard on his lip. “Oh,” he murmured.

Gavin moved closer still and gently cupped Isaac’s face between his hands. His eyes moved between Isaac’s and he stroked his thumbs along Isaac’s cheekbones. “I need you to know I l-love you, _all_ of you, and I’m not just… um…” Gavin’s throat bobbed in a swallow. “I need you to know I’m not just wanting you for… what you can do for me.”

Isaac whimpered. He pressed his lips together so the sound wouldn’t turn into a sob. He took one of Gavin’s hands and turned his face into it, kissing his palm. “Okay,” he whispered. “Just… please know I’m, I’m scared.”

“I know,” Gavin said softly. “I am, too.”

Just like Gavin had done for him, Isaac took Gavin’s hand and brought it to his own hip. He guided Gavin to pull Isaac’s shirt up over his head, and off.

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the gasp, the soft _never mind,_ the rustle of Gavin pulling his shirt back on and leaving the room. None of it came. After a moment, Isaac blinked his eyes open and looked at Gavin. Gavin’s eyes were filled with tears.

Without a word, Gavin leaned forward and pulled Isaac into a kiss. Isaac moaned against his mouth and met it with equal enthusiasm, relief mixed with uncertainty pouring through his blood. He tasted Gavin on his tongue and felt Gavin’s warm hands on his body. He moved and pushed Gavin back against the mattress again. Gavin pulled Isaac firmly on top of him.

Gavin spread his legs for Isaac and Isaac settled between them, shivering again as they pressed their hips together. His hands went to Gavin’s hair, his face, his chest. He settled on his elbows on either side of Gavin’s head and kissed him deeply. He brushed his lips against the scar across the bridge of Gavin’s nose, the one cutting across his cheek, and the one that ran from the corner of Gavin’s left eye and into his hairline. Isaac pressed his lips into Gavin’s hair and breathed deeply. The shampoo-smell in Gavin’s hair wasn’t the expensive shit he used in his gilded cage. It was something cheap, probably from a market somewhere, maybe even homemade. But it suited Gavin, more than any of the trappings his mother used to pad the prison that was her home. Isaac dragged his teeth against Gavin’s earlobe, and Gavin gasped.

“ _Fuck,_ Isaac,” he moaned. “I… Jesus _Christ_ …”

Isaac could feel the heat of his face flushing. “I…”

_“Shit,”_ Gavin whispered. He hooked his hand behind Isaac’s head and pulled him into a breathless kiss, while with his other, he gripped Isaac’s belt and pulled their hips together, harder.

Isaac groaned against Gavin’s mouth. It didn’t feel real, the press of Gavin’s lips, his breath on Isaac’s face, the friction where they pressed together. Not that he felt like he was leaving into mind, but… he was in bed with _Gavin Uriah_. The hands gripping him now had been caused to hurt. They’d hurt Isaac both against Gavin’s will and for it, wielded a knife that drew Isaac’s blood when Gavin craved it, and when it made him sick. It almost felt like a split in Isaac’s mind: the past, and the now.

What do you do when someone who broke you is the one to help put you back together again? What do you do when the person who wanted you dead, would give their life for you? What do _say_ to someone who’d made the worst sacrifice imaginable, who’d damaged you nearly beyond repair, just so they could save your life?

“Gavin,” Isaac said, trembling, and pressed his face against the side of Gavin’s neck.

“Yeah?” Gavin’s fingers traced over Isaac’s sides, avoiding the cane marks on his back that still ached, not yet healed, the skin still scabbed over.

“Um…” Isaac gently kissed Gavin’s cheek. “Is this… um… is this crazy?”

Gavin went still beneath Isaac. “Um,” he said weakly, “Y-yeah. It kind of is.”

Isaac’s hand shook as he gently cupped Gavin’s chin and pulled him into a kiss. “Okay,” he said softly against Gavin’s lips.

Gavin laughed, a tense, nervous sound. “Is it okay?”

“Yeah,” Isaac whispered. “It’s more than okay.”

Isaac pushed himself off Gavin, his hand trailing down Gavin’s chest, over his abdomen, his fingers finally tracing a line against the waistband of Gavin’s pants. He looked at Gavin, at his heaving chest, his hand wrapped lightly around Isaac’s wrist, his thumb brushing against the bandages there. Finally he looked into Gavin’s eyes, and trembled at the softness there, the vulnerability. His heart thudded in his chest, and he shivered. “I want to take these off you now,” Isaac said softly.

“Yes,” Gavin whispered.

Heat flushed across Isaac’s skin. His hands shook as he slowly undid Gavin’s belt and drew it through the belt loops on Gavin’s pants. He dropped the belt to the floor beside the bed, and it landed with a light thud that made Isaac flinch in the silence of the room. He returned his hands to unclasp the button of Gavin’s pants, and slowly pulled down the zipper. He trembled as he eased them off Gavin’s hips, and Gavin braced himself up against the bed to help Isaac. Isaac left Gavin’s underwear in place as the pants fell from his hand onto the floor. He met Gavin’s eyes, and Gavin pulled him forward into a kiss.

Isaac laughed as Gavin fell back to the bed with Isaac on top of him. “You don’t want mine off, too?” he said.

Gavin grinned. “I’ll take them off you when you _beg me_ to take them off, not before.”

Gavin’s laugh went straight to Isaac’s cock, and he moaned against Gavin’s mouth, shifting and rolling his hips just slightly. Gavin gasped and pulled Isaac harder against him.

“Fair’s fair,” Isaac said, smiling. “What if I want you begging, too?”

“It would be a definite change of pace,” Gavin said with a chuckle.

Isaac froze. Gavin dragged in a horrified gasp and pulled away from Isaac with a jerk back against the pillow. “Oh, fuck, Isaac, I… _fuck,_ I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Isaac said, his lips trembling. His arms shook as he slowly pushed himself back and away from Gavin, having the sudden urge to pull his shirt back on and then keep adding more layers until no part of him was showing. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide.

“No, _fuck,_ Isaac, it’s _not,_ ” Gavin said with a whimper. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t _ever_ make jokes about that. I’m so sorry. I… _fuck!_ ” Gavin pushed himself back until he was sitting against the headboard and buried his face in his hands.

Isaac pulled his knees into his chest. “Um…”

Gavin snapped his head up out of his hands and leaned over the side of the bed. “Fuck, Isaac, here. I totally didn’t—” When he sat up he had Isaac’s shirt held tight in his hand. He held it out to Isaac, and was careful not to let their hands touch when Isaac reached out to take it. “I’m sorry. You probably want that on now. Fuck, I’m such an _idiot_ …”

Isaac pulled his shirt on over his head and yanked it down until it covered his chest and abdomen. The cane marks on his back ached. “You’re not an idiot,” he said softly. “I just… maybe I’m not…”

Gavin stood and pulled his pants on and buttoned them. He dragged his shirt on over his head. It was inside-out. The belt lay discarded on the floor. Gavin sat heavily on the bed, far away enough from Isaac that Isaac couldn’t have reached out and touched him. He dragged his hand through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Isaac,” Gavin whispered. “I… should’ve… _thought about that_ before it came out of my _fucking mouth._ That’s not… that’s _never_ something that’s okay. I’m so sorry. I will _never, never_ do that again.” He looked at Isaac with desperation written all over his face.

“Maybe someday we can joke about it,” Isaac said with an awkward one-shoulder shrug. “But… um…”

Gavin’s hands curled into fists. “Well…” he said weakly. “…I understand if you can’t. And… um…” He licked his lips and stared at the bedspread in front of him. “I… I understand if you don’t… um… want me anymore. If you feel un, unsafe.”

“No,” Isaac croaked, shaking his head. “I, I _do_ want you _._ I just… I don’t think I’m, um, ready. Not, not yet.”

“Um… should we then… um…” Gavin rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I might smell dinner? Want to go, um, check?”

Isaac realized for the first time that he _could_ smell something cooking. He wondered, for a moment, how close he’d been to leaving, running away to the space in his head set ahead for his pain. He nodded jerkily. “Um. Yeah. That, um, sounds good.”

Gavin rose slowly and wiped his hands on his pants. He bit his lip and looked at the floor. “Okay. Um…”

Isaac leaned forward impulsively and kissed Gavin firmly on the mouth. Gavin’s hands flew up to cup Isaac’s face before they pulled away just as quickly. As Isaac broke the kiss, he placed his hands on Gavin’s waist and pushed him gently away. Isaac kept his forehead pressed against Gavin’s, having to tilt his head down just slightly.

“It’s not a no, Gavin,” Isaac said, his voice breaking. “It’s, um…” He pulled away and looked into Gavin’s eyes, his fingers tightening on Gavin’s hips. “It’s just a, um… a not yet.”

Gavin’s eyes searched Isaac’s face. A ragged kind of sadness tore at Isaac’s chest as he saw regret and guilt cooling in Gavin’s gaze, solidifying into something even more terrible: doubt.

“Yeah, Isaac,” Gavin said softly. He licked his lips and stepped back. Isaac’s hands dropped away from Gavin’s hips. “You…” Gavin took in a deep breath. “You just… tell me when you want… um… this.” Gavin tucked his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

“Yeah,” Isaac rasped. He opened the door and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Tears burned in his eyes.

_So fucking broken._


	8. Hiding an Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for panic attack, victim blaming

Gavin’s eyes went wide as Isaac clutched at his chest. Isaac stumbled one step to the side, then another. _He’s going to fall._ Gavin made to get out of the chair to catch Isaac, to guide him to a seat, to pull him close to his chest and let him sob. _Something._

Vera darted to Isaac’s side and grabbed his arm. He clutched at her like he was dangling over an abyss.

“Isaac?” her gaze searched his face and she pulled him upright. “Isaac, deep breath.”

“F-fuck. Not his fault. Please, it’s… it’s not his fault…” Isaac staggered in Vera’s grip, barely able to stay on his feet.

“Gray, you okay here?” Vera said fiercely, her hands tangling in Isaac’s shirt and pulling him away from them all. “Can you handle—”

“Absolutely,” Gray said, and their eyes flicked to Gavin’s and stayed. Gavin felt something in him shift, secured to the face of a cliff as the rest of him tumbled into the depths. The sound of Ellis’s sobs on the couch dragged Gavin back down again.

“Isaac, we’re going. You and me. On a walk. Right now,” Vera yanked Isaac toward the front door.

Gavin felt something stretching between his heart and Isaac’s, pulling tight as Isaac stumbled away. _We’re connected. He needs to go but I just want him to_ stay. Gavin lurched forward as Isaac turned back and reached for him, as if Isaac could claw himself up out of panic towards Gavin.

“Not his fault,” Isaac murmured.

“I know,” Vera said, fire and iron in her voice. “Let’s go talk.”

Gavin rocked forward in a sob as Isaac disappeared through the front door. He collapsed back into the chair and pressed his face into his hands.

“Tori,” Gray said softly, reaching out slightly to her. “Tori, can I… can I touch you?”

Tori stared at Gavin with wide eyes, trembling, and wrapped her arms around herself. She jerked her head from side to side, once.

“Okay,” Gray murmured. “That’s okay. Do you know that, Tori? Do you know you’re safe?”

Tori’s lips trembled as her eyes flicked from Gray to Gavin, and back. Finally, she whispered, “You don’t understand.”

Something tightened behind Gray’s eyes. They drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “I know,” they said softly.

“But I do,” Sam murmured from the couch across from Gavin. They shivered, pale and trembling, cradling their arm and gritting their teeth against the pain. Even with the morphine, they’d been in pain for as long as Gavin had been awake. He wondered if Sam had slept at all. From the looks of the deep circles under their eyes, he doubted it.

Gavin had been keeping his eyes away from Sam as much as he possibly could. He hurt Tori, yes, but Sam… Sam, he _destroyed._ Sam, whom he promised he would rather die than hurt again. Sam, whom he’d watched be tied down, beaten, strangled, kicked, degraded, right in front of his eyes and he did _nothing._ Sam, whom he waterboarded. Sam, whom he whipped as they sagged on top of Isaac, as Isaac whispered poison and lies into their ears. Sam, who’d been shot by a bullet meant for Isaac. Sam, who almost died. _Again._ Because of Gavin.

Tori turned and looked at Sam, shaking. “Sam, I—”

“I understand,” Sam whispered, their voice ragged with pain. “I understand. He hurt me, too.”

Gavin winced and bowed his head. His hands tightened into fists. _I know. I know._

“But he didn’t want to. You… you _know_ that, Tori. You _know_ that. And he’ll never hurt you again.”

“Not unless he has to,” Tori whimpered. “What if we get taken again? What if someone else comes for us? What if… if… if another Stormbeck decides to take us, like his cousin, or his uncle, or whatever fucking _Stormbecks_ are left?” Tori’s body coiled tightly with fury.

“They won’t,” Sam said. They pushed themself up against the couch and whined softly. “We’re safe here.”

“But what if we’re _not?_ ” Tori cried. “What if we’re never safe? What if no matter where we go, people will always be after us, because of, because of _him?_ ” She threw a hand in Gavin’s direction.

“You’re safe, Tori,” Gray said, their tone hardening. “You’re safe here. They won’t take you again. No one ever will.”

Tori stood quivering under Gray and Sam’s gaze. Her lips trembled and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I…” She turned her gaze to Gavin, and he withered under it. He didn’t see rage there anymore. He didn’t see terror or hate. All he saw was grief, and pain. Her eyes widened, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. “Why did you have to do this?” she whispered.

Shame choked Gavin and he let out a strangled sob. She didn’t just mean the past few weeks, he knew that. He knew she meant all of it: torturing Sam for information, breaking Isaac for pleasure, hunting the team down for _revenge._ Petty revenge for what they did to protect themselves. He knew she meant shooting Gray, and kidnapping her. He knew she meant finding them again when he had nothing else to lose. He knew she meant worming his way into their family, tricking them all into feeling something for him, only to betray them all again and shatter them beyond repair. He knew it, and he felt like he would be crushed to death beneath the guilt that consumed him.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, and heaved a sob.

“You made us care about you,” Tori said brokenly. “You made us believe you cared for us, too.”

“I _do,_ ” Gavin rasped.

“But you still hurt us. You still took the things that you knew about us and _hurt us._ ”

“I didn’t want to,” Gavin said, pleading.

“And why…” Tori gulped. “Why did you have to come back broken, too?”

Gavin stilled and froze under the chill that swept through him.

“I worried about you,” Tori sobbed. “I mourned you when I thought you betrayed us. I thought Colleen destroyed the man we put back together.”

Gavin was completely numb. His mouth fell open slowly. “You…?”

“I cried for you,” Tori whimpered. “When they took me back to my cell after the first time, I cried. I thought you’d lost yourself completely. After everything we did, after everything we tried to do, I thought you broke. I thought you were _Gavin Stormbeck_ again.”

“So did I,” Gavin sobbed, leaning forward. He ached to reach out to Tori. He didn’t know what he wanted to _do,_ but he knew he wanted to connect with her. Grab onto the despair he saw in her and pull her back to healing, together. _I did this. I want to fix this, if she’ll let me. If they’ll all let me._

“G-Gavin,” Gray heaved out. Gavin looked up and saw tears shining in their eyes, too. “I’m… I’m _sorry_ she broke you, too.”

Gavin forced down the strangled sob tearing at his throat. “D-don’t,” he whimpered. “Don’t do that. Please. Go to, to Sam, or…” His eyes flicked to Ellis, quieted in Finn’s arms. “…or Ellis. Take care of _them._ Just please… don’t…” His voice cracked. “I don’t deserve it. I… please, I… _please_ …”

Gray reached down and pulled Gavin to his feet. They dragged Gavin into their embrace, wrapping their arms tight around him and squeezing until Gavin felt a sob push its way from between his lips. His arms went around Gray, and his hands locked around each other. He heaved a broken sob and buried his face in Gray’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry she hurt you,” Gray whimpered. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry she hurt all of you. But Gavin…” Gray pulled away and held Gavin’s shoulders firmly in their hands. “It’s not your fault. Do you _hear me?_ It’s not your fault. No matter how much you hate yourself, no matter how much it hurts, this is _not your fault._ This… this was not your past returning. This was you, _Gavin Uriah,_ and you did what you had to do to save my family. _Our family._ ” Tears streamed down Gavin’s cheeks. “Do you understand? You have my name now. You’re in this family. You’ll never be who you were again.”

Someone pressed gently against Gavin’s side and he flinched. He turned and saw Sam, panting, their skin shining with sweat, weakly wrapping one arm around Gavin’s waist, the other still in its sling. They gently rested their forehead against Gavin’s shoulder. Their curls tickled Gavin’s neck.

“I forgive you, Gavin,” Sam said softly. They shuddered and sagged against Gavin, a whine forcing its way between their teeth. Gray moved and guided them back to the couch.

Gavin turned to face Ellis, who was still staring at Gavin with something close to hate on their face. He wet his lips. “I’m sorry, Ellis,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for what I did to, to _Isaac._ ” Gavin tripped over the name. “But I… I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just want you to know I’m sorry.”

Ellis leaned forward, hatred twisted their features again. “I—”

_“Ellis,”_ Finn said heavily. They gently pulled Ellis back to the couch. Ellis grabbed Finn’s forearm and shoved them away. Finn jerked as Ellis’s hand closed around Finn’s right forearm. Ellis’s eyes went wide.

“Finn,” Ellis breathed. “Are you… did they _hurt you?_ ” Ellis reached for Finn’s sleeve and jerked it up.

Gavin’s eyes went wide as Ellis pulled the sleeve up above Finn’s elbow. There on the inside of their forearm, round and almost-healed, was a scar. Gavin knew _exactly_ what it was. He stumbled to Finn’s side.

_“They branded you?”_ Gavin and Ellis gasped at the exact same time.

Finn yanked their sleeve back down over the scar, a perfect circle of the Stormbeck family crest seared into their skin.

Finn’s eyes filled with tears. “They… um…” They wet their lips. “They wanted a, um, a medic.”

“They _branded you?_ ” Gavin repeated with a sob.

“I think they wanted to keep me alive, even after,” Finn murmured. “Keep me for themselves. I think they… um…”

“They were going to—” Ellis gasped.

“But they were—” Gavin interrupted.

“It’s _fine,_ ” Finn snapped, and pulled their sleeve down further.

“It’s _not_ fine,” Gavin said breathlessly. “You’re marked now, for u— for the Stormbecks. No matter where you go, anyone who sees that will know you w-were Stormbeck, um, property. Anyone who sees that will, will think they can take you and torture you for in, information about them, or sold back, and I… I…” Gavin trembled and gasped at the air that seemed to be suddenly sucked out of the room.

“We’ll handle it,” Gray said tightly, going to Tori’s side now, and guiding her back to a couch. _They’re just moving between us all. All of us broken. Back and forth, back and forth. All of us needing help. All of us falling apart._

“How?” Ellis whimpered, clutching at Finn as Finn flushed red with something that looked like _shame._ “How can we undo this? If Finn’s… um… _marked_ …”

“We have a lot of choices,” Finn said dully. “We can cut it off. Or, or burn it off.”

“No,” Ellis sobbed. “I don’t want you to hurt, babe. I don’t… I don’t…”

“It’ll fix the problem.” Finn’s eyes shone with tears. “We’ll fix all of this.”

“This can’t be fixed,” Tori whimpered as Gray sat beside her and squeezed her hand on the couch. “None of this can be fixed.” Her voice trailed off into nothing.

Gavin stumbled to his feet, desperate to move. Desperate to push the shame that slid through his veins out of his body, to bleed himself of it. To let it drain out of him, black and poisonous, until there was nothing left. There would be nothing left, after that.

He needed to leave. He needed to _run,_ far away from the family, from these people he’d destroyed over and over and _over._ His hands shook as he staggered out of the living room and down the hall.

_If I leave, they’ll look for me. If I leave, they’ll worry, or assume I’m still working with the syndicates. If they leave, they’ll know I’m shameful, that I’m a monster and I can’t be trusted._

He wanted to disappear, but he had to stay close. He stumbled to his room and closed the door. He collapsed onto his bed and cried until he felt his lungs would tear from his chest.


	9. Taking the Bullet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: trauma victim blaming another victim, dissociation

Isaac dragged his feet as he made his way to the kitchen. The smell of meat and bread and garlic swirled around him, and his stomach growled. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had an actual hot meal.

He turned the corner into the kitchen. Gray, Edrissa, Finn, and Ellis were busily slicing bread, checking on meat in the oven, sautéing vegetables. Isaac licked his lips. His mouth watered.

“Uh, hey guys,” he said softly.

They all turned and looked at Isaac. Gray and Finn smiled at him. Edrissa’s eyes flicked to his, then down to the floor. Ellis pursed their lips and turned back to their pan of onions and peppers cooking with garlic. Isaac tore his gaze from the food and looked around for Vera. She was on the couch with Tori, her arm tight around Tori’s shoulders. Sam sat on her other side, pale, cradling their arm in its sling as they smiled tightly at Isaac.

Vera met his gaze with the shadow of a smirk before her smile fell, her gaze moving over his face, taking in the stoop of his shoulders. The shame in his eyes. Her eyebrows pulled together and she leaned forward.

Tori tensed, and Vera froze. Vera leaned back, her eyes still fixed on Isaac in a silent question.

Isaac bit his lip and shook his head. His cheeks flushed as Vera’s mouth fell open. Her gaze searched his face, a sadness in her eyes that made Isaac’s stomach churn. He stared at the floor and turned to the others.

“Can I, um, help with something?” Isaac said weakly.

“Almost done,” Gray said, their voice sounding as light as Isaac had heard it since the family had reached their house. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Isaac flushed deeper. He heard Gavin come into the kitchen behind him. Isaac froze.

“Hi, Gavin,” Gray said, their gaze now on Ellis. Ellis’s shoulders were tense as they stirred the vegetables, turned firmly away from Gavin and Isaac.

“Hey,” Gavin said quietly. Isaac shot a glance at him. His shirt was right side out now.

_Oh, shit. I didn’t even mention that to him._

“I’ll set the table,” Isaac ground out. He jerkily walked to a counter before he realized he didn’t know where the plates and silverware were. “Gray—”

“Plates are there,” Gray said as they pulled a pot roast out of the oven, set it down, and pointed to one of the cabinets above the counter. “Cups right next to them. And silverware…” They pointed to a drawer right next to Isaac’s hand. “…you were already on the right track.” They took out a knife and sliced the pot roast into large pieces

“Okay,” Isaac murmured. He pulled the drawer open and took out nine forks and knives. He turned to the other cabinet and saw Gavin already taking down the plates. Isaac met his eyes for a moment, then looked away miserably. Gavin set the plates on the counter and took down some cups as well.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gray said. They stepped away from the counter and gestured to the line of food. “Help yourselves.”

For a moment, the only sound was the vegetables still sizzling faintly in the pan. Edrissa stepped forward with a shy glance at the others. She took a plate and took a large slice of pot roast, a scoop of sautéed onions and multi-colored bell peppers, and a slice of bread. She stepped away and made her way to the table. As if a spell was broken, Finn and Ellis stepped forward and began loading their plates with food.

Isaac turned back to the living room and made his way to the couch where Tori, Vera, and Sam sat. Vera gently guided Tori to her feet. Tori’s gaze seemed to waver between here and not here, her mind threatening to disappear into a place no one else could follow. Vera’s arm tightened on Tori’s shoulder and Tori looked up, dazed.

“I’m here,” Tori said softly.

“Good,” Vera said, sounding more than a little relieved. “Let’s go eat, babe. Then we can go to bed if you want.”

“Sounds good,” Tori said as she unsteadily made her way to the kitchen.

Isaac held out a hand to Sam. “Hey Sam,” he said gently. “Need help?”

Sam cradled their right arm and shuddered, their face going pale, sweat breaking out across their skin. “Um…”

Isaac took a step closer, his eyes fixed on their face. “Your arm?”

“My _everything,_ ” Sam ground out between their teeth. Their breath came heavy. “It just… it just _hurts._ ” They trailed off into a whimper.

Isaac looked over his shoulder at Finn, who was carrying their plate to the table, their other arm around Ellis’s shoulders. “Finn?”

Finn looked up and placed their plate on the table. “Yeah?”

“Can they… um…” Isaac swallowed hard. “Can they have another pill?”

Finn glanced into the kitchen, at the clock set into the oven. “Yeah,” they said, and pulled the bottle out of their pocket. “No problem.”

“Sam,” Isaac said softly. “Let’s get you to the table, so you can take your pill.”

Sam moved to get up and stiffened. Their whimper hit Isaac in the chest like physical pain, making his ribs ache even more with each breath.

“Um…” Sam’s hand squeezed into a fist. “I don’t think I… um… I’m not very hungry. I might just—”

“You need to eat, Sam,” Isaac said, and held out his hand again. “Come on. You need to eat, or you won’t heal.”

Sam’s lips trembled. “Isaac—”

“I’ll carry you, if that’s what you need,” Isaac said, his voice sharp. “Or I’ll take a plate to you. But you _need to eat._ ”

Sam raised their head and met Isaac’s eyes. The dull pain there made Isaac’s stomach heave, and the familiar wash of _my fault my fault my fault_ broke over him. He forced it down. _That isn’t what they need. My hatred for myself has never helped them._

“What do you need, Sam?” Isaac murmured.

Sam’s eyes shone with tears for a moment. They blinked and looked down. “I need to stop _hurting,_ ” they huffed, the words coming out twisted.

“Okay,” Isaac said gently. “Let’s get a pill in you, and a little food, and you can lay down and go to bed if you want.”

“I can’t sleep like this,” Sam said bitterly. “I haven’t really _slept._ ”

Isaac bit his lip as he looked down at his little sibling, his heart clenching as his gaze moved over the sling on their arm, the flakes of blood still in their hair, the dark circles under their eyes, the way they flinched slightly with every movement. He drew in a deep breath. “Well,” he said weakly, “You could always just ask Finn to tell you about the clotting cascade and that’ll put you right to sleep.”

Sam looked up at Isaac, pain still making lines around their mouth, around their eyes. Their lips slid into a smile and their shoulders shook with a weak laugh. They winced and shuddered. They took a slow breath in.

“Okay,” they said softly. “Dinner. Then the clotting cascade.”

“Let’s get you to the table,” Isaac said gently, holding out a hand. “And I’ll grab your plate.”

“Okay,” Sam said as they took Isaac’s hand and painfully pulled themself to their feet. They swayed slightly, and Isaac’s hands went to their shoulders to steady them. “Not too much, though. I’m really not that hungry.”

“No problem.” Isaac guided them gently to the table and helped them into a seat. Everyone else was already seated with their own steaming plate in front of them. “Thanks for waiting,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” Gray said, and smiled at Isaac. Isaac walked quickly to the kitchen to grab a plate for him and Sam. He placed a small slice of meat, a few peppers, and half a slice of bread on Sam’s plate. His he piled until the plate was full. He made his way back to the table and set Sam’s plate in front of them. He sat in the empty chair next to them at the end of the table. He looked up and realized he sat exactly opposite Gavin. Isaac flushed deeply and stared at his plate.

Everyone began eating at once. Next to Sam, Finn and Ellis dug into their food with an enthusiasm that was almost impressive. Sam took the pill Finn had placed at their spot and began picking weakly at their food. Vera and Tori ate quietly, unconsciously leaning towards each other. Edrissa’s gaze moved over each of them with every bite, although she shot glances down the table at Gavin every few seconds. Gavin ate with his head bowed, his eyes down, not looking at anyone else. Gray pensively watched them all.

For a while, no one spoke. The only sounds were the clink of silverware against plates, the satisfied chewing, the sound of Sam’s labored breaths. Isaac inhaled his food. The more he ate, the more he realized just how hungry he’d really been.

He was bent over his plate when Sam said quietly, “Um, Isaac?”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Um, would you mind…” They glanced at the slice of meat, untouched.

“Oh.” Isaac’s stomach churned. _My fault my fault my fault my fault—_

_STOP._

“Yeah,” Isaac said, and leaned over to cut the meat into bite-sized pieces.

“Thanks,” Sam said quietly, and continued eating.

Everyone was silent again for a while, the food disappearing from their plates. Isaac glanced up. Edrissa’s and Ellis’s eyes were shifted down and away from Gavin at the end of the table.

“Um,” Gavin said weakly. Isaac glanced at him. “Thank you for dinner,” he murmured.

Ellis scoffed quietly. “As if you weren’t fed the good shit when—”

_“Ellis,”_ Vera and Gray barked at the same time.

Gray glanced at Vera and just slightly leaned back, their mouth twisting in a bittersweet half-smile. Vera turned her gaze and her fury on Ellis.

Ellis was already backpedaling. “All I’m saying is—”

“Tell me what you’re saying,” Vera snarled. “Tell me what the _fuck_ you were going to follow that with.”

Ellis bristled, their eyes flashing. “I don’t know why the fuck you’re getting so butthurt at _me,_ ” they spat. “ _He’s_ the one who—”

“ _He’s_ the one who got us out,” Vera said fiercely, flinging a hand in Gavin’s direction. Gavin was bright red, and he stared at the table. “If not for him, we’d all still _be there._ He’s the _only_ reason we escaped and if Colleen had killed him, or if he’d gotten away when they took us, we would have fucking _died_ in that house.”

“I can go eat in my room,” Gavin said miserably, tears welling in his eyes. He stood up and reached for his plate. “I can—”

“ _Sit_ the fuck down,” Vera ground out through her teeth. “I’m not gonna set a fucking _precedent_ of you being unwelcome with us. You’re part of this family.” Gavin sat down heavily, his eyes wide and fixed on Vera.

_“He hurt Tori!”_ Ellis screamed, jumping to their feet. “He hurt Sam! He hurt…” Ellis swallowed thickly. “He hurt _Isaac,_ ” they hissed. “How can you defend him? How can you fucking _sit there_ and—”

“Because I know what he did to save us!” Vera said, getting to her feet as well. “I know what he sacrificed. I know he did all that shit to make Colleen trust him. I know as soon as she did, the _day_ she did, he got us all out. He didn’t let a suffer a _moment_ longer than he had to. And if Colleen found out, Gavin would have died. His _own mother_ would have killed him, and made him watch us die first.”

“How can you justify—”

_“Because that’s what Ryan did!”_ Vera cried, and her voice twisted into a sob.

Ellis’s mouth fell shut with a snap. Their face flushed a deep red.

“Because that’s what Ryan did,” Vera said, quieter. Her eyes shone with tears. “He… he did the _same fucking thing._ Ryan made those sacrifices for me, too. That’s why I can defend him,” she said as she threw a glance at Gavin. “Because I know what it took for him to do that.”

Isaac turned his gaze on Gavin. Gavin trembled and kept his eyes fixed on the table.

“I’m not justifying anything,” Vera said in a wobbly, tear-filled voice. “I’m not. He hurt us, and we’ll carry those scars forever.” Vera’s gaze shifted to Tori. Tori sat back in her chair, her lips pressed together. Gavin whimpered softly. “But he…” Vera’s mouth twisted. “He did what he had to do. We all did. And he got us out. He risked his life every day, and he got us out.”

Vera sat down and swiped the tears from her eyes. She took in a deep breath and shook herself. She sniffed as she looked at the ceiling, blinking rapidly against the tears still in her eyes. Finally, she looked at Gavin.

“Thank you,” Vera said softly.

Gavin shuddered and heaved a sob. He pressed his face into his hands.

Ellis swallowed hard and sat down, their gaze fixed on the table. Finally they looked up. “I… I’m sorry,” they rasped.

Gavin shook his head, his face still buried in his hands. “No,” he whimpered. “Please don’t.”

“Gavin,” Isaac said softly. Gavin’s hands tangled in his own hair and he pulled. “Gavin,” Isaac said a little louder. Gavin lifted his head and stared at Isaac, his cheeks stained with tears. “Thank you,” Isaac murmured.

Gavin’s face twisted and he covered his mouth against a sob. “Isaac—”

“Thank you,” Sam said at Isaac’s side. They bit their lip as they looked at Gavin, their breathing shallow and harsh. Gavin raised his eyes to Sam and held their gaze desperately, like they could pull him out of the depths. He met their eyes like a man being promised salvation while teetering on the edge of hell.

“Thank you,” Finn said. Ellis pulled away from them, confusion and rage twisting their features.

“Gavin,” Tori whispered. Gavin shuddered and looked at the table again.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

“Th-thank you,” Tori said softly. “For not, not letting her k-kill me,” she rasped. She looked up and took Vera’s hand. “Or Vera. Or any of us.”

“Thank you, Gavin,” Gray said gently, “For saving our family.”

Edrissa looked to Gray, and then Gavin. Her mouth was a hard line. She stayed silent.

Gavin looked around the table at them all, with eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. Finally, his eyes returned to Isaac. Isaac felt himself burn under Gavin’s gaze.

Gavin had saved them, but he hadn’t done just that. He’d seen Isaac’s scars. He’d been with Isaac in his brokenness, touched him where he’d been hurt, held him, even though he knew what Isaac was. Isaac was beaten, and broken, and Gavin still wanted him – still _loved_ him – anyway. Gavin had seen Isaac in his lowest moments, and he still desired Isaac.

And Isaac wanted him, too. Nothing would stop that, now. Not fear, not Gavin’s past, not the world that howled for Gavin’s blood. Now that Isaac knew it, there was no going back. He’d protect Gavin, stay by his side. He’d give his life for Gavin if it was asked of him, like Gavin tried to do for him, like he tried to do for Sam. Gavin was Isaac’s family. Gavin was the one Isaac wanted. He’d proven himself in every imaginable way.

Gavin’s eyes flicked down to the table again, and his head bowed forward. “I just…” His lips trembled and his eyes squeezed shut. “I just wish I could have done it… sooner. I wish I could have…” He took a steadying breath and raised his gaze to look around the table again. I would have taken it all if I…” He whimpered softly. “…if I could.”

“What you gave is enough,” Isaac murmured.

Gavin’s eyes snapped to Isaac’s. Isaac wet his lips to speak.

“Isaac,” Sam rasped. He tore his gaze from Gavin and looked at Sam. Their face was drawn with pain, and they held their arm against their chest. Their skin was sickly pale.

“Oh. Sam. What do you need?” He reached out to Sam and stopped inches away, unsure of where to touch them.

Sam swallowed hard. “Can you, um…” They whimpered. “I n-need to, um, go lay down. Can you help me get, um, cleaned up, and help me go to bed? I just…” They bit their lip and blew out a slow breath. “It _hurts,_ ” they whispered.

Isaac lurched to his feet. “Yeah, Sam,” he muttered. “Absolutely.” He guided them up from the table and turned them towards the hall. “Gray, is it okay if I clean up my—”

“We’ll handle it,” Gray said gently. “We’ll handle the cleanup. You help Sam.”

“Okay,” Isaac murmured. He wound his arm gently around their waist, and winced when Sam hissed at the pressure against their lash marks. Isaac helped them as they stumbled weakly to the bathroom.


	10. Chapter 10

Isaac turned the bath on warm, not hot. He knew how badly lash marks could sting the first few showers. A pile of clean sleeping clothes and a fresh sling sat on the counter. Sam sat on top of the toilet seat, leaning against the counter, their face pale and slick with sweat. Isaac tested the water and turned to Sam.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Sam rasped. They painfully got to their feet. They held their arm as Isaac carefully untied the sling. As gently as he could, Isaac guided their shirt up, sliding it off their left arm, then over their head, then easing it slowly off their injured arm. Sam kept it firmly against their side. Isaac tied the sling under their arm again, and reached for a towel.

“See if you can get the rest off yourself,” he said, his voice strained with tears. He held the towel up to give Sam some privacy as they slowly, painfully pulled their pants and underwear down around their hips. The sight of Sam’s chest, the bruises there, the bandage on their arm, their _back_ … it all made Isaac’s stomach clench. _My fault,_ the refrain played in his head. _My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault._ He hadn’t just seen Sam whipped. He’d told them he hated them while it happened. That he wished he had killed them, so he wouldn’t have been tortured. He’d whispered hateful words in their ear and as much as he had suffered from it, they’d suffered more. He clenched his jaw against the bile that clawed up his throat. Sam finished getting their pants off. Isaac wrapped the towel around them and helped them step into the tub.

He guided Sam to sit down in the tub as it filled with water, the towel still around them. They flinched and hissed as they settled in the few inches of water already in the tub.

“Sorry,” Isaac murmured. “Is it too hot?”

“No,” Sam gasped. “Not too hot. Just hurts.”

“Okay,” Isaac said weakly. He reached for the cup on the sink. He filled it and poured it over Sam’s hair, careful not to let the water drip down their face. He knew for himself all too well that panic that could rise too quickly to hold back in the first few days after being waterboarded, any time his face touched water. His stomach clenched at the sudden image of Sam cowering away from him in the bathtub, tears streaming down their face, begging Isaac not to drown them again—

He shook himself to clear the image. He filled the cup in the stream of water again and poured into their curls that were still crusted with blood. The water in the bathtub was already turning pink. Sam held their arm carefully out from their body, still slinged, and leaned back to keep the bandage on their arm as dry as possible. When their hair was dripping wet, Isaac reached for the shampoo.

“How you doing?” he asked weakly as he soaped Sam’s hair. Sam bit their lip as the shampoo and water rolled down their back onto the lash marks. They shuddered as Isaac rinsed his hands in the stream of water and reached for the cup again. Pink suds made their hair stand on end.

“I’m good,” Sam breathed, gritting their teeth.

Isaac huffed out a quiet breath. “You don’t have to be,” he said softly. He filled the cup and poured water into Sam’s hair.

“Isaac…” Sam gasped as they forced down a whimper. “You were… you were so much w- _worse_ when we… with Tori…”

Isaac’s jaw clenched. “No, I wasn’t,” he said through his teeth. He reached for a washcloth and wet it in the stream of the bath. The water was nearly to the edge of the tub. He shut it off.

“I just don’t— _aah!_ ” Sam bit back their cry as Isaac began to gently wash the blood off their back, the skin torn and inflamed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, tears springing to his eyes.

“I just, don’t…” Sam bit down hard on their lip as Isaac carefully scrubbed the blood from their right shoulder, inches above their wound. They gasped. “I just… don’t… want to make you feel, no no _no crap._ ”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Isaac whimpered, gently cleaning the blood from their arm below the wound, careful not to pull at the stitches. “Let me get the other arm clean, too, and you can do the rest. I’ll hold your arm out of the water, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam gasped, their eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“What do you not want to do?” Isaac said as he washed the blood from Sam’s left arm.

“ _Aah._ Um…” Sam chewed their lip, keeping their eyes squeezed shut. “I just don’t want you to, um… f-feel bad.”

Isaac froze with the washcloth on Sam’s wrist, where the skin had been rubbed raw from struggling against the handcuffs during the beatings, the waterboarding, the strangulation. Isaac’s lips trembled.

_“What?”_

“Um…” Sam shook their head. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m _worried_ that, um… if I… make a big deal out of it, then you’ll… um…” They swallowed hard. “…feel bad,” they finished miserably. They opened their eyes. Their mouth twisted as they looked up at Isaac.

Isaac’s hands shook on Sam’s wrist. He finished scrubbing their left hand where it supported their right arm, and held out the washcloth to them. “Um,” he rasped. “Let me hold your arm. You, um, clean yourself up.” He gently took their arm and held it above the water.

Sam took the washcloth and scrubbed their face, their neck, their chest. Isaac shuddered, unable for a moment to tear his eyes from the bruises and raw skin encircling their neck. His gaze moved over the bruises crossing their torso, the way they couldn’t seem to take a deep breath on the left side. He tried not to look at the lash marks on their back – twenty of them. Each one raised, angry, a welt or something much deeper. He turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened as Sam finished cleaning the blood off their skin. Isaac felt Sam’s hand on his, and he let them hold their arm again.

“How about we drain the tub and do one more with just water?” Isaac said brokenly, forcing down the sobs that tore at his throat. He stared at the water, more of a greyish pink than before. Sam nodded, shivering.

“You cold?” Isaac croaked.

“No,” Sam said, wincing as they moved their arm slightly. “Just hurts.”

“Okay.” Isaac pulled the plug and let the water slowly run out of the tub. He stared at the wall as he waited for the water to drain. After a long time, he said, “I already feel, um, bad. You don’t have to, to, um… _hold back_ for my sake. Okay?” Isaac sought Sam’s gaze. They raised their eyes to his, their lower lip trembling. “This…” Isaac’s gaze moved once again over Sam’s chest. “It’s not your job to hold it in for my sake. Your job is to heal, okay? I’ll figure my shit out.”

“Isaac…” Tears leaked from Sam’s eyes. “This is _exactly_ how you felt when we got to Tori’s house.”

Isaac leaned back on his heels. “What?” His eyebrows pulled together as he looked at Sam.

Sam looked at the wall of the tub. “I mean…” They gave a weak shrug. “You were at Tori’s house, beaten up and almost dead because of _me,_ ” they whispered. “You went to Gavin because of _me._ And you tried to hold it inside. You tried to hide it from me.” Tears rolled down Sam’s cheeks and into the soaking wet towel they wore around their waist. “So when you say I shouldn’t hold it in for you…” Sam chewed their lip. “…doesn’t that make you a little bit of a hypocrite?”

Isaac’s eyes fell shut. The last of the water ran down the drain, leaving the bathroom silent for a few moments.

Isaac ran a damp hand through his hair. “Yeah, Sam,” he said weakly. “It does.”

“Do you really want me to tell you how much it hurts?” Sam said, with an edge to their voice. Isaac’s eyes flew open. Their mouth twisted as they looked at him with something that went beyond hurt in their eyes.

“I… I do,” murmured. “If you want to tell me, I want to hear it.”

“You really wanna know?” Sam ground out through their teeth, their eyes shining with tears. “Do you really wanna know that every single _second_ I feel like a railroad spike is going through my arm? Do you wanna know how it feels like I’m being _stabbed_ every minute, even though Finn went in and fixed me up? Do you wanna know how much my back _hurts,_ and every time the pain gets really bad, I hear your voice in my head telling me all those things Colleen made you say?”

Isaac flinched. He curled into himself and wrapped his arms around his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Do you really wanna know that?” Sam said desperately, their voice rising. “Do you really wanna know? My back hurts, my arm hurts, my neck hurts, my chest hurts, my legs hurt…” Sam heaved a sob. “And I can see in your face right now how much that hurts _you!_ ”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Isaac whimpered. “You should be able to tell me how much it hurts. I’m supposed to… to _be there_ for you, Sam. I’m supposed to _be there._ I…” Isaac choked down a sob. “ _Please_ let me be there for you.”

Sam shook their head, starting to shiver harder. Goosebumps broke out over their skin. “Isaac… _how_ can I complain about what I went through when you… when you…?”

_“Don’t,”_ Isaac breathed. “No. It’s not the same thing. It’s not. Please, d- _don’t_ say that.”

“I’m sorry, Isaac,” Sam murmured. “But you know I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

“I know,” Isaac said softly. He reached for the tap and turned on the water again. He stoppered the tub. “I know that.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Sam whimpered. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please. What am I supposed to _do?_ ”

“Just…” Isaac scrubbed his face with his hand. He fell silent. The only sound in the room was the sound of the tub filling. _You’re supposed to be safe. You’re supposed to be protected. You were never supposed to_ do _anything. That was my job._

Isaac’s head drooped forward and he blew out a steadying breath. He pushed down his tears. His hate. _I never helped them by hating myself._

“Tell me when it hurts, okay?” Isaac said softly. “Tell me when you _need_ something. Please.” Isaac squeezed Sam’s uninjured shoulder. “I really appreciate you asking me to do this for you. And I’m glad I could help you.” Isaac tried a painful smile. “You can’t get rid of me, apparently.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a weak laugh. “Apparently.” They looked at Isaac and smiled. Their mouth tightened painfully and their eyes were foggy. Guilt punched through Isaac’s chest as he smiled back. _After all this, they’d still want me in their life._

The water reached the top of the tub again. Isaac turned off the faucet. He held Sam’s arm as they poured the clean water over themself once more, washing away the soap and blood that hadn’t been cleaned away the first time. He pulled the plug on the water and helped guide Sam to their feet.

As they stepped out of the tub, Isaac put a large dry towel over their shoulders. He took the soaked one and hung it from the showerhead.

“What else do you need?” Isaac said.

“Um…” Sam bit their lip and blew out a slow breath through their nose. “Let me put my pants and everything on. I might need, um, help with the shirt?”

Isaac nodded. “And I can put your hair in one of those turban things,” he said with a smile, not quite as tight as the last one.

Sam’s lips quirked up. “Sounds good.”

Isaac turned and left the bathroom, waiting just outside the door, waiting for Sam to call. When they did, he went in to towel dry Sam’s hair and help them get their sleeping shirt over their head. He slipped Sam’s arm into the new sling and tied it behind their neck.

“Can I do anything else for you?” Isaac said. Isaac’s chest didn’t ache quite so much now that the blood had been washed out of Sam’s hair.

“I don’t think so,” Sam said softly. “I think I’m just gonna…” They cut themself off with a yawn. “I think I’m gonna go to bed. I think I might actually be able to, now that I’m clean.”

“Good,” Isaac huffed.

Sam leaned forward and wrapped one arm around Isaac’s waist. His arms went gently around them, careful not to jostle or move anything. Sam’s wet hair dampened Isaac’s shirt, but he was miles away from caring.

“Thank you,” Sam murmured against Isaac’s chest.

“Oh.” Isaac blinked tears away. “Sam, I—”

“You protected me as much as you could,” Sam said softly. “I know you would have taken it for me.”

“Every minute of it,” Isaac murmured, and pressed a kiss against the top of Sam’s head.

Sam nodded against Isaac’s chest, then stepped away. “’Night, Isaac,” they said quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Isaac said, and watched them go. He stood frozen in the middle of the bathroom. After a long moment, he walked to his room to get his clean sleeping clothes that he hadn’t even bothered changing into last night. He took them into the bathroom with him, and he turned on the shower.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw mention of past noncon torture

Isaac groaned as he worked his shirt off over his head. He’d done his best to scrub the blood off at Lucy and Topher’s place, but he could still feel it on his skin, the rough brown flakes in his hair. He shuddered. _I can’t believe I slept like this last night._

_I can’t believe Gavin wanted me like this._

Isaac finally pulled his shirt off. He kept his eyes down, away from the mirror. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to see the evidence of Gavin’s torture all over his body, the scars from the first time, the half-healed wounds of the second. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced out a deep breath. He lifted his eyes to the mirror.

He bit his lip and shivered. His eyes went immediately to an angry bruise in the center of his chest, right over his sternum. He closed his eyes against the sudden flash of memory: turning with his gun in his hand, raising it to aim at the advancing guard. The deafening shot. The spray of blood as it went through Sam’s arm. The punch of the bullet into his vest. The shock, the buzzing terror as he was thrown to the ground with Sam on top of him. Sam, bleeding out, their blood staining the vest, his shirt.

He opened his eyes and forced himself to look at the bruise. It was a deep purple, turning blue near the edges. He ran his hand gently over it and winced. The bruise was slightly raised, and it ached under his fingers. He took a tremulous breath. His ribs ached.

His gaze moved to his old scars, faded now, the crisscrossed lines across his chest and abdomen. Left by Gavin’s knife, nearly a year ago. Isaac shivered to look at the new scars Gavin had left. He held up his arms.

Almost-healed lines from the knife marked Isaac’s arms all the way up and down. The silvery marks from Gavin’s knife heated over a lighter still showed underneath, shot through with thin, pink lines. He trembled and turned to look at his back.

A quick gasp left his lips as his eyes moved over the cane marks on his back. Some hadn’t broken the skin, but close to ten long, pink lines crossed his back. Beneath them were the dozens of whip scars from almost a year ago. They looked so insignificant, next to the marks of the cane. They looked like something that should never have broken him, but did. His left shoulder was marked with the puckered scar from the explosion at Gavin’s safehouse. Isaac licked his lips and dropped his gaze.

He eased his pants and underwear down off his hips. He hissed softly as he did, still sore from what Gavin and Leo did to him.

_Not Gavin. That was Leo._

_It was Gavin, too._

Isaac couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t look at his own body, seared with scars. He couldn’t look at the evidence of the torture. The memories of what he endured, and couldn’t endure.

He turned and turned on the shower again, making the water hot. When the bathroom began to fill with steam, he stepped in. He gasped and let out a groan as the water landed on his wounds, the marks of the cane, the knife. He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. He waited for the moment to pass.

Slowly, his muscles relaxed. His lips trembled as he opened his eyes. The water moved over his skin, down his body, washing him clean. Washing the torture away, the sweat, the blood. The clean water poured over him, and ran down the drain a faint brown color. Isaac imagined it washing the scars in his mind away, too.

He tilted his head back and let the water rush over his ears, his hair. A few stray drops ran down his face. His stomach clenched, the vague memory of drowning gripping him. A cloth over his face. The suffocation. The water rushing into his nose and throat. The burning in his chest, like he’d inhaled acid, like he’d inhaled fire, as the water slowly made its way down into his lungs. Sam’s screams in his ears as they lay strapped down to the table next to him. His chest ached as he forced down the panic, forced himself to breathe slowly. To breathe air, not water, safe, safe, safe… He leaned forward and braced his hand against the wall.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

His hand curled into a fist. He relaxed it and reached for the shampoo.

The smell washed over him as he soaped his hair. He breathed in deep the smell of cleanliness, of comfort. Safety. He was safe here, in this house. He was safe with his family. He was safe with Gray.

He was safe with Gavin.

He tipped his head back again and let the water wash the shampoo away. _I’m safe with Gavin._ He felt it with a certainty that made his head spin. No matter what Gavin had done, no matter what his past was… Isaac was safe with him. Isaac was _happy_ with him. And Gavin understood.

Gavin understood the darkness. Gavin understood what it was to be used. He understood what it was to be good. To be useful. Compliant. He knew what it was to raised as a tool, to be cast aside when that tool broke. Isaac was cast out when he failed to kill. Gavin was cast out when he failed to die.

And now, Gavin was here, north, in the room just down the hall. Gavin was here. Gavin was safe. Gavin was… wanted. Isaac _wanted_ him.

He scrubbed his body clean of the sweat, the blood that streaked his skin in layers. The cuts burned under the hot water. Isaac felt his shoulders start to relax for the first time in weeks.

Isaac wanted Gavin, but how could he have him? If one errant thing that Gavin said could push him away, how could they ever be together? The past was real. Isaac’s memories were real. Was there ever a way to be with Gavin where he wouldn’t be frightened sometimes?

Was there a way to be with anyone at all without being frightened?

Gavin had made a sacrifice that turned Isaac’s stomach to think about. Gavin had hurt his family, over and over, the only people he ever loved. _Did he know we loved him too, as he did it? Did he know how much we still love him?_ Gavin tortured the only people who’d cared about him in his life. Gavin had been sure he was going to lose them. And Gavin had gotten them out anyway. He’d gotten them out, even as his mother demanded his death.

Isaac scrubbed his face with his hands. After three weeks of not shaving, his stubble had filled out into the beginnings of a beard. He reached for the razor and the can of shaving cream. _Gray thought of everything._ He held up his hand to take some shaving cream, and paused. The hot water pounded on his shoulders. He didn’t know why, but he put the shaving cream down. He held his breath and let the water cascade over his face for a moment before he stepped back and wiped the water away. He turned off the shower and stepped out.

Gently, _gently,_ he toweled himself dry. He pressed the towel over the cuts, the cane marks, gritting his teeth at the feeling of the fabric on his wounds. He towel dried his hair and looked in the mirror again. It was too foggy for him to see his reflection.

Slowly, achingly, he pulled on his sleeping clothes. The shirt hung on Isaac’s shoulders, putting the gentlest of pressure on the cuts and cane marks. Isaac’s hands trembled as he hung the towel from the rack. He smoothed his hair back as he opened the door. The cool, dry air washed over him and made him shiver. He walked down the hall, straight to Gavin’s room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking FINALLY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit consensual sex

Isaac’s legs shook as he walked to Gavin’s room. The hall seemed both infinitely long, and terribly short. Isaac tried to push every thought out of his mind so he wouldn’t lose his nerve, so he wouldn’t turn and run and not stop fucking running until he was too lost to find his way back. _What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing what am I doing what am I doing…_ After what felt like a millisecond, and a year, he stopped in front of Gavin’s door. His stomach roiled. His skin felt too tight. He raised his hand to knock.

His muscles locked and he froze. Bone-deep terror washed through him, his heartbeat hammering loud in his ears. _What if he…? What if he…? What if he…?_ Isaac pushed down the creeping, aching feeling in his chest that after everything, Gavin would turn him away. That after Isaac had gotten _so close_ , he’d been stopped by his own fucking fear. That he’d completely blown his chance. That he’d never have another chance again.

Isaac sucked in a breath and knocked three times. He felt like he’d just stepped off a cliff.

An agonizing second passed. Then another. Then another. He chewed his lip. His hands fell to his sides, shaking. He forced himself to draw in a deep breath. He pleaded silently that Gavin would come to the door, that he’d listen, that he want Isaac’s kiss and want his touch and let him run his hands over his skin and—

The door opened. Isaac’s heart dropped.

Gavin looked out at Isaac, and pain tightened in his eyes. “Hey, Isaac,” he murmured. “What—”

“Do you still want me?” Isaac said in a rush. Falling still.

Gavin’s eyes went wide. “Wh-what?”

“After, um, after earlier. Do you, um…” Isaac swallowed a painful lump in his throat and forced down his unbearable terror. “Do you… do you still want me?”

Gavin’s eyes moved over Isaac’s face, his gaze hungry. Isaac wet his lips as hope dared to rise in his chest.

“Yes,” Gavin breathed.

Heat poured through Isaac’s blood. He stepped into the room and closed the door.

Gavin opened his mouth to speak. “Isaac, I—”

Isaac pulled Gavin into a kiss. Gavin groaned against his lips.

“Isaac,” Gavin whimpered. “Isaac… you don’t… after earlier, you… I would understand if…”

“I don’t care what happened earlier,” Isaac murmured against Gavin’s mouth. “I don’t care. I just…” He pulled away and met Gavin’s gaze. “I just want you. I’m… scared, but…” Isaac cupped Gavin’s face. “Please… can we try again? Please?”

Gavin met Isaac’s eyes, his gaze softening as he searched Isaac’s face. Isaac ached with desperation and want and something sharper, something that sank claws into his heart.

“Y-yes,” Gavin whispered, and pulled Isaac towards the bed. “Yes… please.”

Gavin sat on the bed and pulled Isaac closer. Isaac’s stomach bucked as he straddled Gavin’s hips and pulled Gavin’s mouth hard against his. He opened his mouth to Gavin’s tongue and moaned.

Gavin’s hands went to Isaac’s shirt. “Can I…”

“Yes,” Isaac gasped, and moved his lips down Gavin’s jaw. Gavin pulled Isaac’s shirt up over his back. He felt a stab of panic as the cool air of the room touched the cane marks on his back. It was quickly swept away by Isaac’s burning need to have his skin against Gavin’s. Isaac dragged Gavin’s shirt off and dropped it to the floor.

“We can go slow,” Gavin murmured. He gasped as Isaac drew his tongue down his neck. “I know it’s… um…”

Isaac’s hands shook as he grasped Gavin’s waist. “Yeah,” he murmured, and pressed his forehead against Gavin’s. He took a steadying breath. “I’m still… um… sore.” Distant shame curdled in his gut. He pressed his fingers against Gavin’s skin.

“Oh.” Gavin pulled back and searched Isaac’s face with his gaze. “No, I was… I was thinking… you would… um…”

Isaac’s heart lurched. _“Oh,”_ he breathed. “You want me to… um…”

Gavin gently cradled Isaac’s face. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered. “Please.”

Isaac’s mouth went dry. His lips trembled. He leaned forward and caught Gavin’s mouth in a kiss. “Yes,” he sighed against Gavin’s lips. “I want that. P-please.”

Gavin moaned as he ran his tongue along Isaac’s lower lip. He reached for Isaac’s belt buckle. “Can I…”

Isaac shivered as Gavin’s fingers traced a line against his waistband. “Y-you haven’t… um…” He blew out a slow breath. “You haven’t seen me naked.”

“No,” Gavin breathed. “But _god,_ I want to. I want… I want all of you.”

Isaac whimpered. Heat flooded through him. The familiar beat of fear, of shame, of the urge to cover himself until no one could see him pounded through his mind. Gavin tilted Isaac’s head back and pressed his lips against his neck. “Isaac,” Gavin said softly. “Stand up.”

Isaac trembled and pushed himself up off the bed. Gavin’s hands went to Isaac’s hips. Isaac shivered as Gavin looked up at him, his eyes dark with want, his gaze soft as it moved over Isaac’s face. He held Isaac’s gaze as his hands went to Isaac’s belt. “Isaac,” Gavin said, his voice gentle. “I need to hear you say you want this. I won’t…” Gavin’s hands shook. “I won’t do anything you don’t, um, want. Not…” Tears swam in Gavin’s eyes. “Not again. Not… not ever.”

Isaac gasped out a breath. He gently stroked his fingers through Gavin’s hair, cupped his face, ran his thumb over Gavin’s lips. He felt that he was on the edge of another precipice, each new touch, each new inch of skin exposed another threshold to cross.

_As long as I’m with Gavin…_

“Yes,” he whispered. “Please, um… please take my pants off. Take it, um, all off. _Please._ ” His voice was strained with a mix of uncertainty and desperate need.

Gavin drew in a shivering breath. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Isaac’s hip, just above the waistband of his pants. “I want that, too.”

Gavin gently loosened Isaac’s belt. He unbuttoned Isaac’s pants and undid the zipper slowly – agonizingly slowly. Heat throbbed between Isaac’s legs. Gavin turned his gaze back up to Isaac and slowly eased his pants and underwear down over his hips. Isaac’s cock finally sprang free and he groaned.

Isaac shivered at the exposure, at the feeling of Gavin’s hands guiding Isaac’s pants down his legs. Isaac stepped out of his clothes and kicked them to the side. His stomach burned with desire, with longing, with _fear._ He stood in front of Gavin, completely naked. His hands trembled at his sides.

Gavin took in a sharp breath, his eyes moving over the planes of Isaac’s body. Isaac quailed and leaned away from the intensity of Gavin’s gaze.

“No,” Gavin murmured, and took Isaac’s hand. He pulled Isaac closer. “Isaac, you… you’re _beautiful,_ ” Gavin breathed.

Isaac’s cheeks flushed, the blood hot under his skin. He chewed his lip as he looked down at Gavin.

Gavin’s eyes flicked to Isaac’s cock. Isaac ached to feel Gavin’s mouth on him. His hips twitched forward, his cock painfully hard. _Please,_ he thought desperately. _Please, please, touch me,_ please _…_

A smile spread across Gavin’s face as he looked up at Isaac. He leaned forward and gripped Isaac’s hips. “Do you…?” He pressed his lips against Isaac’s stomach.

Isaac’s head fell back and he moaned. “Oh… I…”

“Because I want that, too,” Gavin sighed, and dragged his lips across Isaac’s hip. His face pulled into a wicked grin. He gently grasped Isaac’s cock.

Isaac shuddered and nearly fell forward. The soft touch, the teasing, gentle movement, Gavin’s thumb pressing gently against the tip of his cock, it all swept over him in a wave of pleasure that made his knees go weak. He gasped and braced his hand against Gavin’s shoulder.

_“Gavin,”_ Isaac panted. “I…”

“Is this good?” Gavin said softly, his voice nearly breaking in a laugh.

“Y-yes,” Isaac gasped. “I…”

“I want you, Isaac, every way there is to have you,” Gavin said, his voice heavy and rough. “I can have you like this, or…” He pressed his lips to Isaac’s cock.

Isaac whined softly, his fingers digging into Gavin’s shoulder. “Wait, wait,” he gasped. Gavin pulled away and looked up at Isaac, his eyebrows pulling together in concern. “No,” Isaac said raggedly. “God, I want… I want you to suck… but…” His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t speak, not with his words tumbling through his head. He couldn’t make one goddamned thought that made sense, not with Gavin looking up at him like that, his eyes shining with tentative want.

“I…” Isaac swallowed dryly. “I, um… maybe… maybe l-later. Because I want to, um, do that for you, too. But right now…” His hand moved down Gavin’s arm. He took Gavin’s hand and gently pulled him to his feet. “Right now…” His hands went to the front of Gavin’s pants. Gavin trembled at the touch. “I want…”

“What do you want, Isaac?” Gavin whispered, his gaze burning on Isaac’s face.

“Um… I…” Isaac’s hands shook as he opened the front of Gavin’s pants. “I want…” He took Gavin’s cock in hand. Gavin gasped and bucked forward into Isaac. Isaac pulled Gavin’s pants and underwear down off his hips. Gavin steadied himself against Isaac and stepped out of his clothes. His head fell forward against Isaac’s shoulder as Isaac grasped him again and stroked him gently.

“Isaac,” Gavin panted against Isaac’s skin. “Please… tell me what you want.” He pulled his head back, biting down on his lip as Isaac’s hand tightened slightly around his cock. He cupped Isaac’s chin and stared into his eyes.

Isaac trembled. _What do I_ want _?_ He swallowed.

_Anything you want. Whatever you want._ Anything anyone else wanted.

Gavin laughed, a little sadly. “I can see those gears turning, Isaac,” he said, then moaned as Isaac stroked him again. “I know you… um…” Gavin shuddered as Isaac moved his hand again. “Ah, _shit._ ” He bit his lip. “Isaac… I… I want to know what _you want._ Please… _please_ tell me what you want.”

Isaac’s hand went still on Gavin’s cock. He trembled as he met Gavin’s gaze, his green eyes shining back at him. Isaac’s heart stuttered.

What did it matter what he _wanted?_ If Isaac could make Gavin feel good… wasn’t that enough? Isaac would get his pleasure somehow. With the way Gavin was looking at him, the heat in his gaze, the helpless tremble of his lips, Isaac couldn’t help but be warmed and enveloped by it. If he could give Gavin pleasure, then…

“Isaac,” Gavin said softly, and pulled his hips away from Isaac’s hand. He took Isaac’s hands in his. “You’re allowed to want something for yourself.”

Isaac rocked forward, his eyes suddenly burning. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. He pressed his lips against Gavin’s shoulder, standing with him, both of them completely naked. Gavin squeezed his hands. Isaac squeezed back.

“Okay,” Isaac said, trembling. “I… um… I want, y-you. I want to um… lay down in the, the bed, and…” His cheeks flushed. “I want to, um, get you ready, and then, um…” Gavin’s eyes flicked down to his lips. “And then I want to, um… to fuck you.” Gavin licked his lips. Isaac leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I want to take you, Gavin.”

“Yes,” Gavin whimpered. “Y-yes, _please,_ I…” He pulled back, searching Isaac’s face. Isaac was defenseless. He had nothing left to hide, not his scars, or his fears, or his desires. Gavin had seen all of it, now, witnessed it, and he was still standing here with Isaac. Isaac’s throat was tight. Gavin pulled Isaac onto the bed. Gavin moaned as Isaac crawled on top of him and settled between his legs.

Isaac kissed Gavin deeply as he pressed his hips forward. They groaned together as the Isaac rolled his hips, the friction nearly driving Isaac crazy, his cock sliding against Gavin’s. Isaac’s hands fisted in Gavin’s hair and he pressed Gavin down into the mattress. He opened his mouth against Gavin’s lips.

Gavin’s hands roamed over Isaac’s body. His fingers brushed against Isaac’s sides, over his ass, down the backs of Isaac’s thighs. He pulled Isaac harder against him. Isaac whimpered.

“I can’t wait until you’re healed,” Gavin panted against Isaac’s mouth. “I want to touch you _everywhere._ ”

“Me, too,” Isaac said. His eyes rolled back as Gavin sucked gently at his neck. “I want you to, um, touch me.” His fingers trailed down Gavin’s chest. Isaac gently pinched Gavin’s nipple. Gavin gasped and arched up against Isaac. “Does that—”

_“Yes,”_ Gavin gasped. He whined as Isaac flicked his tongue against Gavin’s other nipple. “Ah, _fuck._ ” Gavin reached between his legs and stroked their cocks together. Isaac moaned and drew his teeth over Gavin’s earlobe. “Isaac… Isaac, _please,_ will you… I w-want…”

Isaac pulled back with a smile. “You want what?” he said, and quivered as Gavin stroked them again.

“I want you inside me,” Gavin whimpered. “Please, _please,_ I want you, Isaac…”

Isaac dropped his head against Gavin’s shoulder. “Oh, god,” he whispered. His cock twitched in Gavin’s hand. “You want me to—”

“Jesus _Christ,_ Isaac,” Gavin moaned, and pulled Isaac’s hips against his. “Please just, fuck me, _please,_ I…” He spread his legs further and pressed his hips up against Isaac. Isaac wet his lips and nodded, his chest heaving.

Isaac reached for Gavin’s nightstand and pulled out the lube. His hands shook, the feeling of unreality moving through him again as he slicked his fingers. _I’m in bed with Gavin Uriah. I’m naked with Gavin Uriah – and I’m not afraid._

“Ready?” Isaac rasped.

Gavin nodded vigorously, his gaze flicking between Isaac’s hand and his face. He bit his lip and lifted his hips slightly off the bed. Isaac’s hand went to Gavin’s hip and he kneaded softly. His other hand went to Gavin’s entrance. He slowly eased a finger in.

Gavin gasped and cried out softly. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut as he shuddered. His head fell back against the pillow.

“Shh,” Isaac hissed, a smile pulling at his lips. Slowly, slowly, he eased further in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gavin whimpered, panting. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“If you can’t keep quiet like this, how are you going to—” Isaac’s mouth snapped shut. A blush spread across his face.

Gavin looked at him, his eyes hazy in the dim light of the room. “How am I going to what?”

Isaac’s mouth was dry. “I was gonna say, how are you going to keep quiet when I, um, fuck you.”

Gavin chewed his lip. “Do you want me to?”

“Um…” Isaac’s heart pounded in his chest. He pressed his finger deeper into Gavin and savored Gavin’s groan. “I mean… maybe it would be a good idea to… um… keep it a, a secret? For a little bit? Not forever. I don’t want this to be, um, a secret forever.”

Gavin nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, sadness pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wrapped his hand around Isaac’s wrist and gently ran his hand up and down the inside of Isaac’s arm, avoiding the cuts. “Yeah. The others… um…” His eyes fell shut for a moment. “The others… um… wouldn’t like it.”

“Vera knows,” Isaac said softly.

Gavin blew out a slow breath and brought his hands up to pull at his hair. “Yup,” he murmured. He stared at the ceiling. “Do you still… want to, um…”

In response, Isaac added a second finger. Gavin’s mouth fell open and he arched against the bedspread.

“Gavin, can I…” Isaac ran his fingers against Gavin’s hip, closer to his cock. “Can I um, touch you? Would that be…”

“Please,” Gavin said as he nodded. Isaac wrapped his hand around Gavin’s cock and stroked him slowly in time with his fingers moving inside him.

_“Oh,”_ Gavin sighed. “That… Isaac, that feels so… so good…” He groaned as Isaac stroked him again. _“You feel good, Isaac.”_

The sound of Gavin’s pleasure tingled in his chest, sending heat to his cock until he throbbed with need. _Not yet._ He worked his fingers inside Gavin, stroking his cock, as Gavin slowly relaxed around Isaac’s fingers.

“Isaac,” Gavin said softly. “Will you…?” Gavin shuddered. “I l-like that, what you’re doing, but would you… would you come here while you do it? I want you to, um, to kiss me. I want you to kiss me while you do this. Please.”

Isaac’s lips quivered as he met Gavin’s eyes. His hands shook as he lowered himself onto his side beside Gavin. He braced himself up on his elbow. He closed his eyes and kissed Gavin softly.

Gavin moaned and opened his mouth, pressing in with his tongue. Isaac sucked gently at Gavin’s tongue as he eased a third finger into Gavin. Gavin shuddered, and Isaac shuddered with him, his fingers inside Gavin, Gavin’s tongue in his mouth.

_“Ahh,”_ Gavin sighed. “Isaac, I want… I’ve wanted…” He moved against Isaac’s hand, tilting his hips up, as Isaac’s fingers pushed in deep. “Isaac, this is…” He pulled Isaac hard against him. Gavin’s fingers tangled in Isaac’s hair, moved along the stubble at the curve of his jaw. “Isaac…”

“You feel ready,” Isaac said softly. His cock pressed against Gavin’s thigh.

“I am,” Gavin croaked. “I am, Isaac, please, I n-need…” His head fell back against the pillow and he whimpered helplessly.

Isaac pulled Gavin in for one more deep kiss before he pulled his fingers out of him. He reached for the nightstand and pulled out a condom. Gavin’s gaze followed his hands the whole time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw explicit consensual sex

Isaac’s hands shook as he tore open the packet. He fumbled as he pulled the condom out, nearly dropping it as if it was his first damned time. He drew in a slow breath and pushed it out through his lips. His fingers trembled as he rolled it on.

“You alright?” Gavin said softly. Isaac met his eyes and his hands faltered halfway up his cock. Gavin’s gaze was so gentle, so concerned, hazy and warm and everything that made Isaac feel _wanted._ He wet his lips. A strangled laugh forced its way out.

“Um, yeah,” he managed.

Gavin reached out and took Isaac’s hand. “We still don’t have to,” he said, and Isaac’s heart lurched. “If you’re not ready, if you’re… not… We can stop right here. It’s okay.”

“No,” Isaac whispered. “I want to. I want to, so… f-fucking much…” His stomach bucked as his eyes moved over Gavin’s body where he lay in bed. “I’m just, um, nervous.” _I’m so fucking far beyond nervous._

“Oh.” Gavin sat up and pulled Isaac in for a kiss. Isaac trembled under Gavin’s hands, against Gavin’s lips. “That’s okay,” Gavin said gently. “I am, too.”

“But you’re…” Isaac whimpered. “You’re so…” He faltered and waved his hand like the words were written in the air for Gavin to find.

Gavin tilted his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “I’m so what?”

“You’re so… um…” Isaac’s voice broke. _“…hot,”_ Isaac finished. He felt so _stupid,_ completely undone by the gorgeous man in bed with him, by their history together, by the memories that still burned in his mind of Gavin’s hands on him, over and over and _over_ … It all made him clumsy and awkward like he was brand new to this.

Gavin broke out into a laugh and kissed him again, longer, deeper. “You are, too, you know,” he said, and Isaac shivered with the heat of Gavin’s breath on his lips. “I’ve always thought so.” He chuckled against Isaac’s mouth. “Apparently.”

Isaac flushed. Gavin cradled his face and kissed Isaac again, softly, the gentle press of his lips making Isaac’s heartbeat stutter and speed up. Gavin pulled back slightly. “I can help, though, if you want.” Gavin flashed a grin. Isaac’s stomach dropped.

“Uh…” he said thickly. He wet his lips and swallowed hard. He took Gavin’s hand and brought it to his cock. Gavin nosed against Isaac’s cheek and kissed him softly, just behind his ear, as he slowly stroked Isaac, rolling the condom on as he did. Isaac trembled and bucked against Gavin’s hand.

Gavin eased himself back against the mattress and bit his lip, his chest heaving. His eyes flicked between Isaac’s face and his cock as he spread his legs wider, his hands curling into fists around the bedspread. Isaac heard his blood rushing through his ears as he reached for the lube again and slicked his cock. His hands shook as he settled between Gavin’s legs again. He could feel Gavin trembling.

Gavin pulled him down to the bed into an open-mouthed kiss. Isaac ran his tongue against Gavin’s lower lip as he positioned himself against him, panting against Gavin’s mouth, every inch of his skin on fire with anticipation. He kissed the corner of Gavin’s mouth, and his cheek. He met Gavin’s eyes. “Ready?” he murmured.

Gavin nodded and pulled Isaac’s mouth against his. “Yes,” he whispered.

Isaac took a deep breath and pressed himself into Gavin. They gasped against each other’s mouths.

Isaac moaned and shuddered as he pushed into Gavin, easing back out, pressing in again, their hips rocking slowly together. Little by little he entered him, pulled back, deeper each time until their hips were flush against each other. Isaac panted, dizzy, as the tops of his thighs pressed against the backs of Gavin’s. He cupped Gavin’s face and kissed him tenderly.

“Isaac,” Gavin sighed as his hands moved to Isaac’s hips. He pushed Isaac’s hips back slightly and pulled them harder against his.

_Holy shit. I’m inside Gavin Uriah._

Isaac’s head was suddenly empty. He could think of nothing but the heat around his cock, the feeling of Gavin’s skin under his hands, the warmth of their bodies together, the taste of Gavin’s lips on his tongue. He pressed his face against Gavin’s neck and began to slowly roll his hips.

_“Ahh,”_ Gavin moaned, and arched up against Isaac. “Isaac, I…” His head fell back, exposing more of his neck. His breaths came heavy. Isaac sucked at a spot on Gavin’s throat, and his pulse pounded against Isaac’s lips.

“Jesus Christ,” Isaac groaned as he moved faster against Gavin, his vision whiting out with each roll of his hips. “I didn’t… think…”

“Me neither,” Gavin sighed, and pressed his lips against Isaac’s shoulder. “Jesus _fuck_ I want you.”

“You can have me,” Isaac said softly. Gavin gasped and licked his lips, tilting his hips up higher.

Isaac braced himself on one hand and reached down to gently stroke Gavin’s cock. Gavin rocked forward with a low cry, then immediately sank back to the bed. He covered his mouth with his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin heaved. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I d-didn’t to make, noise it just… I just… f-feels… amazing…”

“Fuck it,” Isaac rasped. “I don’t care if they hear. I don’t fucking care… I…” He moaned as Gavin angled his hips up and Isaac worked deeper inside him.

“But…” Gavin’s eyes rolled back and his hand closed on Isaac’s hip. He panted and caught his breath. “But the others… if Ellis…”

_“Fuck Ellis,”_ Isaac groaned. “I don’t care. I don’t care if they hear. I want you and I, I _love_ you, and I don’t fucking care—”

“You love me?” Gavin gasped. His eyes were wide and fixed on Isaac’s face, shining with hope and disbelief and desperate want.

Isaac’s hips stuttered against Gavin. “I… yeah, I thought… I told you I…”

“You never said you _love_ me,” Gavin said. His throat bobbed and his eyes shone with tears. “Isaac, are you, are you _serious?_ You don’t have to, to say it just because I did, you can take your time, and you can, um, you don’t have to rush it, I can—”

“No,” Isaac murmured. He leaned forward on both elbows and pressed his lips hard against Gavin’s. “No. I love you. Everything I saw while we were, um, south… Everything you said, everything you _did_ …” He looked into Gavin’s eyes, held his gaze. “I learned everything I needed to know, to know I love you. Everything you are, Gavin. I know you. I _love you._ Nobody can take that away from me. Not Ellis, not the syndicates, not the entire goddamn north can take you away from me. Okay? I… I _love you,_ Gavin.”

“Oh.” Gavin’s eyes swam with tears. One coursed down his face into his hair. He took a shuddering breath. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” Isaac said with a tremulous smile. He rolled his hips. Gavin’s hand tightened on Isaac’s hip and he moaned.

Isaac reached down again to stroke Gavin’s cock. Gavin whined at the touch, his other hand going up to tangle in Isaac’s hair. Every nerve ending in Isaac’s body was a live wire. He shivered as his scalp tingled and he rocked his hips against Gavin’s harder. Pleasure was coiling in his pelvis, at the base of his cock, brightening and glowing with each thrust.

“Ah, _fuck,_ ” Gavin moaned, his fingers digging into Isaac’s hip. “Isaac, Isaac, _fuck,_ please…”

“What do you need?” Isaac said as he bent forward to kiss Gavin’s neck, his hand momentarily stopping on Gavin’s cock.

“Don’t stop,” Gavin begged. “Please, Isaac, don’t stop. Keep… keep doing that… Can I, can I do something for you? What would you, _ahh,_ what would you like?”

Isaac’s stomach clenched. He wanted, he _wanted,_ but… Asking it made him feel so much more naked. But the wanting felt like fire under his skin, and with Gavin moving under him, looking up at him, helpless under his hands, Isaac could ask it. “Um…” He bit his lip. “Tell me you, um, you love me again.”

Gavin broke into a radiant grin. “I do, Isaac,” he murmured. “I love you, I, love you because you’re, _oh,_ Isaac, just like that, oh, _god_ …”

“Do you like this?” Isaac said, joy and desire crashing through his body, stirred by Gavin’s words, by the sounds of his pleasure. He worked his hips hard into Gavin’s, moving with him, making the mattress and bedframe creak with every rock forward. _If they didn’t know before, they do now._

_And I don’t care._

_“Yes,”_ Gavin moaned, his voice rising, breaking with each thrust. “Isaac, god, I… I love you, Isaac, you’re so strong, and kind, and brave, and… and so fucking sexy, Jesus _Christ_ …”

Isaac snorted, and a furious blush burned his cheeks. “Sexy?”

“Fine,” Gavin laughed. “Gorgeous. Beautiful.”

Isaac whimpered as glowing heat swelled in his pelvis, taking over his mind, swirling through his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Oh, Isaac, I… I love you, you’re gonna make me… _fuck_ …”

Isaac moaned wordlessly as he pounded into Gavin. Sweat glistened on his skin. His blood thundered through his ears. “Say it again,” he begged, trembling on his edge. He panted, pleasure burning through him, maddening him.

“I love you,” Gavin whispered. His fingers locked around Isaac’s hip as he arched, his mouth falling open. Gavin threw his head back and came hard all over Isaac’s hand. _“I love you,”_ he cried softly as he tightened impossibly on Isaac’s cock.

Gavin’s words and tightness both drove Isaac over the edge. He shuddered and came, ecstasy pouring through him as he emptied himself into the condom, into Gavin Uriah. Gavin pulled him down for a kiss and Isaac collapsed on top of him. They moaned against each other’s mouths and shivered against each other’s skin. Their lips moved together as they both came down, their hands moving over each other, sweat drying on their skin. Isaac trembled as he settled, Gavin’s scent all around him. He groaned and reached over the edge of the bed for one of their shirts.

He grabbed the first thing he found and gently wiped away the mess on his hand, and on Gavin’s stomach. Gently, slowly, he pulled out of Gavin. He pulled off the condom and tied it off, then dropped it into the trashcan beside the bed. He stretched out beside Gavin and pulled him into his arms. He sighed as Gavin met his eyes.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“I love you,” Gavin said with a smile, his gaze soft. “I love you, Isaac.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Isaac’s lips. “I love you. I love you.”

Each time Gavin said it, something trembled in Isaac’s chest, something good and sweet and intoxicating. He smiled and pulled Gavin closer.

Gavin ran his fingers in a long line between Isaac’s shoulder and his hip, back and forth, back and forth, raising goosebumps on Isaac’s skin. He shivered and kissed Gavin softly.

“That was… um…” Isaac smiled shyly. “That was good.”

“That was _beyond_ good, Isaac,” Gavin sighed. “That was…” Gavin blew out a slow breath. “That was…”

“Yeah.” Isaac cupped Gavin’s face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. He drew in a deep breath, breathing in the smell of their sweat.

Gavin’s hand went to Isaac’s face. He trailed his fingers across Isaac’s chin. “I like the beard, by the way,” he said with a soft smile.

“You like that?” Isaac laughed. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure about it.”

“It’s a good look on you, Isaac,” Gavin said. “But… most things are, so…” Gavin kissed Isaac’s cheek. “I like it.”

“Hm.” Isaac reached out and took Gavin’s hand. He let his fingers slide through Gavin’s, tightening, loosening, gently touching. Gavin drew in a deep breath beside him. He met Gavin’s eyes. “What is it?”

“Um…” Gavin swallowed and looked at their hands. “I was… um…” He laced his fingers through Isaac’s. “That last night, in… in my bed…”

Isaac took in a trembling breath. “Yeah?”

“Um… when we were, um, lying together, and you held my hand, what were you… what were you thinking?” Gavin’s voice shook.

All the air left Isaac’s lungs. “Oh.” His voice cracked. “Um…” He licked his lips. “I was thinking that I… um…” His eyes fluttered shut. “I was thinking I’d never be allowed to, um, touch you after that night, ever again, and I wanted to touch you in one way that didn’t… _mean_ anything. That didn’t, um, ask anything of you. Of either of us.”

Gavin let out a breath. “Oh,” he said, relief making his voice weak.

Isaac looked at him. “Why?”

Gavin shrugged, his eyes still fixed on where Isaac was still running his fingers through Gavin’s. “I didn’t know,” he said. “And I was wondering.”

“Oh.”

After a long moment, Isaac ran his hand up Gavin’s arm, up his neck, to his face. He cradled Gavin’s face and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Thank you,” Gavin whispered against his lips.

Isaac pulled back. “For what?”

“For… um…” Gavin’s mouth twisted. “For loving me. And for… being willing to risk… this. I know it’s not—”

“Don’t,” Isaac said gently. “Don’t do that. Please. I want this. I want _you._ Please don’t try to talk me out of that.” Isaac kissed him again, and again, and again, as if to make up for the time they’d wasted being captured or tortured or just plain _stupid._ “Please just be with me. Please just… let me be with you.”

Gavin’s lips trembled as he looked at Isaac, pain tightening in his eyes. They both were silent for a long time. Isaac listened to his own heartbeat, and to the sound of their breathing together.

Finally, Gavin nodded. Isaac pulled Gavin into his arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Gavin sighed and wound his arms around Isaac’s waist.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Gavin said softly. His voice trembled.

Isaac drew in a quick breath. “Do you want me to?”

“Um, yeah,” Gavin said, the tremor slightly less.

Isaac kissed the scar across the bridge of Gavin’s nose, then the one on his cheek, then the one at the corner of his eye. “I want that, too,” he whispered.

“I just want to, to hold you,” Gavin murmured. “And I want to wake up with you. Or else I…” He swallowed. “Or else I’m afraid I’ll think this is, um, a dream.”

Isaac laughed softly. “Pretty weird dream.”

“Less weird than you’d think,” Gavin said as he cuddled closer. He pressed his lips to Isaac’s neck. Isaac caressed Gavin’s cheek and tilted his face up for another kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw explicit consensual sex

Motes of dust floated in the sunlight filtering through the curtains. Isaac blinked slowly and watched them dance in invisible currents, rising, falling, swirling. He breathed deeply and stretched, reaching his hands up over his head, and heaved a yawn. He sighed and rolled over.

Gavin lay next to him in bed, still asleep. He was splayed out on his back, one hand over his head, the other running under Isaac’s pillow, his legs taking up a good portion of Isaac’s half of the bed. Isaac huffed out a sigh and smiled.

Gavin was… _beautiful._ His hair was a mess, sticking up on one side, flattened on the other. His mouth was open and he was breathing with the slightest rasp of a snore. His eyes lazed under the lids, his face relaxed, his body free of tension. Isaac’s gaze roamed over Gavin’s chest, over his shoulders, down to his hips where they were covered by the blanket. Isaac trembled with disbelief and longing, his heart aching in his chest as he watched Gavin sleep. Peaceful. Safe. Free of pain. Isaac could have watched Gavin like that for hours.

Gavin stirred. His eyelids fluttered, and he sighed softly. Isaac’s lips curved into a smile. As if Gavin could feel Isaac’s gaze, his eyes opened slowly and sought out Isaac immediately. Gavin’s lips trembled and he gasped.

_“Oh,”_ he whispered. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Isaac chuckled and leaned over, pressing his lips gently against Gavin’s. “No,” he said softly. “Not a dream.”

Gavin’s mouth twisted, and he pulled Isaac close. “Oh, god,” he murmured. His gaze moved over Isaac’s face, staring at him like he was the sunrise after an endless night. “It wasn’t a dream,” he whispered, his hands going to cradle Isaac’s face. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Gavin pulled Isaac on top of him, pulling their mouths hard together. Isaac moaned as he crawled on top of Gavin and opened his mouth to him. Gavin whimpered as Isaac pressed himself along the length of Gavin’s body.

“Isaac,” Gavin gasped as his hands moved over him. “I’m, I’m s-sorry, I just…” His hand tangled in Isaac’s hair. “I… I c-can’t believe we… you…” Gavin groaned as Isaac kissed his way down Gavin’s neck. “…and I can’t believe you’re _safe._ ”

“Because of you,” Isaac murmured against Gavin’s shoulder. “All because of you.”

“Oh… g-god, I…” Gavin caught his breath as Isaac sucked gently at his neck. Isaac could feel Gavin hardening against his thigh.

“Do you want to—”

“I know what I want,” Gavin said, his voice husky. He pushed Isaac off of him and eased him onto his back.

Isaac’s stomach bucked. His hand rested on Gavin’s chest.

“Is this okay?” Gavin said softly as he brushed his lips against Isaac’s throat. “Can you, um, lay on your back?”

“Um…” Isaac’s breath hitched. The cane marks ached. His chest twinged at the feeling of being pressed down into the mattress.

“I’m not going to… um…” Gavin kissed down Isaac’s chest. “Not going to get on top of you. But I want to… um…” He kissed lower.

Isaac burned with a sudden blush. _“Oh,”_ he managed. “Um…” His hands shook as he ran his fingers through Gavin’s hair.

“I w-want to fuck you like, like this.” Gavin nibbled gently on Isaac’s hip. “Can I—”

“Oh god yes,” Isaac wheezed. “Oh, god, please, I…” His voice broke. “G-Gavin…” His hips bucked forward, his cock hardening beneath the blanket.

Gavin grinned up at him. There was nothing of Gavin’s old smile on his face anymore. The self-satisfaction, the smugness, the wicked enjoyment of the worst of Isaac’s memories – that was gone now. In its place was something good and sweet, something that drew Isaac in, that captivated him. Gavin’s smile was _sunny_ now, lighting up his whole face, making him look not like a syndicate son, but like the man Isaac could trust. The man Isaac wanted.

Isaac’s lips trembled. “I love you,” he whispered.

Gavin went still. A tender vulnerability moved across his face as he met Isaac’s gaze. Isaac wet his lips as he gazed back.

“I love you,” he said again. “I love you, Gavin Uriah. I’m… I’m in love with you.”

Gavin clumsily crawled forward and kissed Isaac fiercely. Isaac’s arms came around Gavin and held him close. Gavin groaned and rolled his tongue against Isaac’s.

Gavin pulled away from the kiss all at once. “I was in the middle of something,” he said with a laugh. He pushed himself up and moved down the bed to settle between Isaac’s legs.

“Oh,” Isaac moaned as Gavin gently kissed along his hip once more.

Gavin looked up at Isaac with a flirtatious grin. “Do you want me to?”

Isaac nearly choked on his own spit. “Do I want you to, um, suck my cock? Uh…” His voice trembled. “Yeah. Yes, yes please. That would be good.”

Gavin bit his lip and eased the blanket off over Isaac’s hips. Isaac was already hard. Gavin grinned up at him and pressed his lips to the tip of Isaac’s cock.

_“Ah,”_ Isaac gasped at the sudden rush of heat to his cock as Gavin grasped him in one hand. Gavin stroked him gently. Isaac’s hips stuttered forward. “ _Hoh_ god.”

“Hmm,” Gavin murmured. He licked a stripe along the underside of Isaac’s cock.

Isaac’s breath rushed out of him at once. His eyes rolled back and his hands fisted in the sheets. He gasped and let out a moan as Gavin took him into his mouth.

“Oh… g- _god,_ Gavin…”

Gavin laughed once and his tongue pressed against Isaac’s cock. Isaac trembled and reached out to grasp Gavin’s hair.

“Oh, _fuck,_ Gavin, I…”

Gavin pulled his mouth away from Isaac’s cock with a _pop_. “Sorry I can’t respond,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m busy.” He dipped his head and took Isaac’s length into his mouth, all at once.

Isaac groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow. “’s okay,” he whimpered. “It’s… _ah_ …”

Gavin’s head bobbed as he sucked gently at Isaac’s cock, swirling his tongue back and forth. Isaac throbbed and bucked and gasped. Gavin stroked him gently with one hand as he fucked Isaac with his mouth, adding just the slightest pressure, guiding Isaac up into a golden, buzzing pleasure that coiled in his pelvis and at the base of his cock. Isaac’s hand tightened in Gavin’s hair.

“Oh, Gavin… _ahh_ …” Isaac’s mouth fell open as Gavin took Isaac as deep into his mouth as he could go. Isaac whined softly and guided Gavin to move his mouth along his cock. Gavin moaned as Isaac’s hand made a fist in his hair.

Isaac’s hips lifted up off the bed as he pushed up against Gavin’s mouth. Gavin reached up and wound his fingers through Isaac’s free hand, grasping tight as he paused to catch his breath. Isaac whimpered. His muscles tightened with the orgasm that was already so damned close.

Gavin looked up and met Isaac’s gaze. “I love you,” he whispered softly, before he opened his mouth and took Isaac in again.

_I love you._ The words swept over Isaac, as warm and sweet as the orgasm building in him, mixing through and brightening until Isaac’s heart swelled with it. Gavin squeezed Isaac’s hand as Isaac pressed against the back of his throat. Isaac’s voice rose to a whine as the golden wave of pleasure broke over him. He shuddered and came with a low cry. He moaned as Gavin swallowed him down, his hand gently gripping Isaac’s hip as he stuttered with the falling glow. Isaac trembled and melted back against the bed.

Gavin pulled back from Isaac’s cock and pressed his lips against Isaac’s hip. He kissed higher, against his stomach, then higher, drawing up Isaac’s chest, kissing along the long, straight scar directly over Isaac’s sternum, letting his lips barely brush the raised bruise where Isaac had been shot. He dragged his lips up Isaac’s throat until he reached his mouth.

Isaac pulled Gavin into a deep kiss, shivering and dizzy from his orgasm still. He cupped Gavin’s face in one hand and dragged him closer with the other. Gavin whimpered softly as Isaac ran his hands down Gavin’s sides.

“Thank you,” Isaac sighed. “I… um…” His tongue felt too big for his mouth. He knew the words he wanted to say, _you’re wonderful, I can’t believe this is something I can have, I never thought this could happen but now that it has I never want to leave your side, stay here forever with me, be my family, be my lover, please, please, let me be yours…_

All that came out was, “You’re good at that.”

Gavin snorted grinned down at Isaac. He settled down and Isaac’s side and rested his head against Isaac’s shoulder. He ran his fingers gently over Isaac’s chest, back and forth, absentmindedly tracing Isaac’s scars. Isaac shivered at the touch over a part of his body he’d never wanted anyone else to see, ever again. But Gavin treated Isaac’s scars like… like they were just a part of him, a part of his body, another way for Gavin to touch him and love him. Isaac’s swallowed hard and gently stroked Gavin’s arm.

Isaac smiled lazily and stared at the ceiling. It had beams that ran across it, dark wood like the rest of the house, standing out against the white painted ceiling. His eyes lazed over the patterns in the wood, obscured by the dimness of the room. Isaac took a deep breath and sighed it out as he ran his fingers up Gavin’s neck and into his hair.

“Oh,” he said with a sudden realization. “Can I, um… can I… do that for you?”

Gavin was silent for a moment. Isaac flushed with sudden embarrassment, wondering for a moment if he said something wrong. Before he could build up the nerve to ask Gavin, he spoke.

“I… um…” He shifted against Isaac. “I… I don’t know. I don’t want it to feel… um… like a trade. Like, I do that for you, you do that for me. I…”

“It’s not… um, _transactional,_ ” Isaac said quietly. “I just… um…”

Gavin looked up at Isaac and met his gaze. “It’s not that I think it’s transactional,” he said gently. “It’s not. It’s just that… um…” His eyes flicked down to Isaac’s lips. “It’s that… for a while…” Gavin swallowed thickly. “I told you I need you to know that I love you for you, not what you can do for me.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, his eyebrows pulling together.

“Well… at… at C-Colleen’s house,” Gavin said, darkening, “It was my job to… um…” Gavin’s jaw clenched. “…use you,” he finished. “And I… for a little while, I’m not saying forever and I’m not saying every time, I… I want to give you something and have you not do it back. Okay? I mean… I…” Gavin brushed his fingertips across Isaac’s lips. “And it’s not like I’m, uh, giving you something, or doing something for you. I love going down on you, believe me, I…” Gavin’s face flushed and his face shone a smile. “…I _love_ it, but…” His face fell. “I want to be able to, um, feel like…” Gavin’s head fell forward against Isaac’s shoulder. “Agh, _fuck._ I’m screwing this up. I don’t mean I don’t want you to do things for me, and I’m not saying I have to, like, build up a number of things to make up for things, I guess I’m just saying…” He raised his head and looked desperately at Isaac. “Do you know what I mean?”

Isaac nodded slowly, twisting a lock of Gavin’s dark hair between his fingers. “I think so,” he said softly. “I… I think I understand.”

Gavin bit his lip. “Okay,” he mumbled. His fingers traced Isaac’s scars. “I don’t want to say you can’t do things. I don’t want to say I’m the only one who can… I mean… that you can’t…” Gavin whimpered. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Isaac gently kissed the tip of Gavin’s nose. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Things are gonna be… um… hard. We have a lot of…” His mouth twisted. “…history. But…” He kissed Gavin’s mouth. The tension in his body eased. “We’ll figure it out. If you, if you want to. It’ll be hard, but… I… I want to do this with you. I want to _be_ with you, Gavin. If you want that, too.”

“Yes,” Gavin breathed. He smoothed his fingers through Isaac’s hair. “Yes. Please.”

“Okay,” Isaac said gently. He pulled Gavin in for a quick kiss. “Now… we should probably get up.”

Gavin laughed. “Why?”

“Because Gray said we’re doing Sunday breakfast today,” Isaac said with a smile. “We should probably help with that or we’ll get stuck on dish duty.”

“I love Sunday breakfast,” Gavin said softly, almost as if to himself.

Isaac’s lips quirked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, bracing his head up on his hand. “Because we’re all together. We’re all helping. And, um… it just makes me feel… nice.”

“Oh.” Isaac’s gaze moved over Gavin’s face. “I love it, too. We’ve done it for months, ever since—” He closed his mouth slowly and pressed his lips together.

“…ever since you met Tori,” Gavin said, his voice low.

Isaac offered a half-smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Ever since we met Tori.”

Gavin kissed Isaac on the cheek and pushed himself upright. He rolled his neck and stood from the bed. Isaac couldn’t help but stare as Gavin stood in front of him, completely naked, and looking down at Isaac with the exact same expression.

Gavin smiled and crossed to the wardrobe. “Gray left clothes in here for me yesterday,” he said as he pulled out a shirt. “You could wear some, if you wanted. Unless you wanted to go to your room first.”

“No, it’s okay,” Isaac said as he stood, too. “I’ll wear yours. We’re about the same size, right?”

“You’re taller, but yeah,” Gavin said as he pulled out a pair of underwear and pants for himself. “Close enough.”

“Hm.” Isaac peeked in. There were a few t-shirts and another pair of pants. He grabbed the first shirt he saw and began to get dressed.

“It’s gonna be a shitstorm when we go out there,” Gavin said tightly. He pulled his shirt on over his chest.

“Yeah,” Isaac said sadly. His stomach lurched as he thought of Sam, exhausted, in pain, and what they would think when they learned Isaac hadn’t stopped fucking Gavin after they escaped Colleen’s house. He pressed his lips together against the shame that coiled in his stomach. “But we’ll figure it out.” He pulled the underwear over his hips, then the pants.

“I just hope Gray doesn’t hate me,” Gavin said in a small voice. Isaac turned and met his gaze.

“They won’t hate you,” Isaac said as he took a step towards Gavin. He took Gavin’s face in his hands. “They won’t. Okay?”

“I hope not,” Gavin said, his eyes swimming with tears.

“Hey,” Isaac said gently. He stepped closer until he pressed against Gavin. “We’ll figure it out. Okay? Anything that gets thrown at us. We’ll figure it out. You’re our family now. Figuring shit out is what we _do._ ”

“Yeah,” Gavin said with a teary smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Of course we will,” Isaac said as he pulled Gavin into another kiss. He felt Gavin’s shirt on his bare chest.

“Yeah.” Gavin pressed his forehead against Isaac’s, then stepped away. He waited as Isaac pulled on his shirt. Then he held out his hand. “Ready?”

Isaac laughed weakly. “Hell yeah. Let’s do this.” He laced his fingers through Gavin’s.


	15. Chapter 15

As soon as they left the room, Isaac’s stomach bucked. He paused and squeezed Gavin’s hand. “Maybe we should wait on the hand holding until everyone’s… you know…”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, and dropped Isaac’s hand. “No, that’s a good idea.” His face pinched into an uneasy smile.

Isaac drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay. It’ll be fine. It’ll be good.” He squared his shoulders and walked slowly down the hall to the kitchen. He didn’t smell breakfast yet. _Good. That means we’re not too late to help._ As he rounded the corner, he looked back at Gavin. Gavin blew out a slow breath and nodded. Isaac stepped into the kitchen.

“Oh, good, his royal fucking highness is awake,” came Ellis’s snide, cutting voice.

Isaac pressed his lips together and raised his gaze to Ellis where they stood leaning against the counter their eyes flashing with vicious resentment. Finn was seated at a barstool beside Gray. They wore identical nervous expressions. Sam, Vera, Tori, and Edrissa were nowhere in sight.

“Morning, Ellis,” Isaac said, his voice low.

“So that’s what you do when we finally get home safe, huh?” Ellis snarled as they took a step forward. Their gaze was fixed over Isaac’s shoulder, on Gavin.

“Oh, boy,” Finn murmured. They warily got up from their seat and crossed the kitchen. Gray stood slowly, their gaze fixed on Ellis, and walked slowly towards them.

Ellis took a step closer. “You spend how many goddamned weeks hurting us, and sleeping in your goddamn comfy bed eating your mother’s fucking food, and…” They hissed out a breath through their teeth. “…and _raping_ Isaac, and… and you just couldn’t get enough, could you? We got out, but you had to have Isaac again, you just _had_ to get in on that again, didn’t you?”

Isaac’s face darkened. His lip curled. “Ellis…”

“Ellis, that’s _enough,_ ” Gray said through their teeth.

Ellis rolled their eyes, their face twisting with hate. “Oh, yeah, fucking defend the syndicate prick, everyone. Of course. Gotta make sure he feels _comfortable_ about everything he’s ever fucking done.” Another step closer. Finn’s hand closed on their wrist.

“Ellis,” Isaac said tightly, fury boiling in his chest, “Don’t fucking act like I have no choice here. And… and _don’t_ fucking act like this was his fault. We’ve already told you _so_ many goddamned times, we’d be dead in that fucking house if not for him. He saved us. He’s on our side. He’s our _family._ So stop—”

Ellis threw off Finn’s hand and advanced on Isaac. “Yeah, sure, _you_ can say that. _You_ can say he’s your fucking family. You spent the night _fucking_ him. I guess you had to thank him for saving our grateful fucking lives somehow, right? Whatever the fuck you wanna do, Isaac. _You_ get a fuckbuddy out of this entire fucking nightmare, and _you_ got to stay with the others when we were there, but _I_ …” Their voice wavered. They sniffed back furious tears. “… _I_ was the one alone, and _I_ was the one who thought you were, were _dead_ …”

Isaac’s voice went deadly and low. “And you’d still _be_ there in that fucking house thinking we were dead, if _he_ hadn’t gotten your ass out.”

Ellis stepped forward and jabbed their finger into Isaac’s chest. Isaac winced, and his bruise throbbed. “And _no one_ would have fucking been there at all, if not for _him._ ” They jabbed at Isaac’s chest again. At Isaac’s quick intake of breath, something crossed Ellis’s face that made Isaac’s blood run cold. He’d seen it in Colleen’s face, when she’d hurt him, and Gavin’s, all those months ago. Isaac hurt, and it made Ellis feel _good._

Finn’s hand closed again on Ellis’s wrist, just as Gray put a hand on their shoulder.

“Go ahead and fuck the syndicate _prick_ who killed my family,” Ellis snarled. They threw off Gray and Finn and aimed a punch at Isaac.

Isaac blocked it, his eyes going wide, his heart hammering in his chest. “Ellis, _back off!_ ” he shouted, as he pushed Gavin behind him.

“No, you fucking _back off,_ Isaac,” Ellis hissed, and shoved him backwards.

A switch flipped in Isaac’s mind. He shoved Ellis back with one hand and reached for his gun with the other.

Ellis froze. Isaac’s hand closed around empty air.

Ellis’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “Did you just… did you seriously just… _grab for your gun?_ With _me?_ For… for _him?_ ”

Isaac’s chest heaved with fury and terror and _guilt_ as he stared Ellis down. Finn and Gray both pulled them backwards, away from Isaac.

“N-no,” Isaac rasped, his throat tight. His lip curled in a furious snarl. “I didn’t grab for my gun for _him._ I did that because I’m tired and scared and hurt and you put your _fucking hands on me._ ” His chest heaved. His hands shook. “I did that because I’ve been trained my entire goddamned life to handle threats and right now you’re acting like a _threat._ ”

Ellis took a step back, tears running down their cheeks. “I…” Their gaze flicked between Isaac and Gavin.

“I’m _sorry,_ ” Isaac said, his voice thick with tears. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t want to hurt you. But…” Isaac’s hands closed into fists. He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to relax his stance. “This is… this is what my body… _does._ It’s what I’ve been f-fucking…” His tongue felt clumsy as he tripped over the word. “…c- _conditioned_ to do.” Dread settled into his bones, cold and hard and metallic, as he looked at Ellis. They shrank back from him, their muscles going slack. They stared at him in horror.

_I’ve destroyed this._

“Oh, fuck,” Ellis whispered. “I’m… I’m _sorry._ ”

Not horror at him. Horror at _themself._

Isaac’s eyes fell closed. He forced himself to take in a deep breath and let it out. His body itched for action, his eyes wanting to open on their own, to take in information, take in threats, react, defend, break, _kill._ He shuddered and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac murmured. “I… I w-won’t do it again.” The chill crawled deeper into him, crushing him with ice and frigid pain. _I did it wrong. I did something wrong. Don’t leave, please don’t leave, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please,_ please _…_ “E-Ellis,” he whimpered. “Just… I’m _sorry_ …”

“Oh no, no, no, god, _no_ …” Ellis whispered. Isaac opened his eyes to see Ellis clutching Finn, staring at Isaac with tears streaming down their face.

“I…” Isaac reached behind him for Gavin. Gavin’s hand slid into his and squeezed. The room blurred with Isaac’s tears.

“I… didn’t…” Ellis gasped and pressed a hand to their mouth. “Oh, Jesus, I…” Ellis clutched at their chest. “Fuck, _fuck,_ I’m so _sorry_ …”

Isaac forced his hands to stop trembling and reached out to Ellis. “Can I… um…” He wet his lips. “Can I touch you?”

Without a word, Ellis threw themself at Isaac and frantically wrapped their arms around him. They sobbed into his chest.

“You were the third one she killed,” they cried raggedly. “F-Finn, then, then Sam, then you.” They whimpered and tightened their arms around Isaac’s waist. “And I, I, every single second I thought about you, and the others, and I thought… I thought I _killed you,_ and now I… fuck, I, I just, I _hurt,_ and I _missed you,_ and I… I’m so _sorry!_ ”

“I am, too,” Isaac whimpered, and pressed a kiss to the top of their head. “I’m so sorry she h-hurt you like that. I’m so sorry she… I… I’m so sorry I let her hurt you.”

“Stop it,” Ellis groaned. “Stop blaming yourself, I can’t stand it, I can’t… can’t _stand it_ …”

“You can’t blame Gavin either,” Isaac said weakly. “Please. You can feel what you want about… about us, but… Ellis, _please_ …”

“I know,” they whimpered miserably. “I know. It’s n-not his fault. But I… I have to hate _someone_ …”

“Hate Colleen,” Isaac said gently. “Hate Leo. Hate Benjamin, that piece of shit Colleen said murdered your family. Hate _them,_ Ellis. Not… not Gavin. _Please_ don’t—”

“I don’t,” Ellis whispered. “I… I don’t. But I, I thought you were _dead_ and I thought it was, was maybe… maybe his fault…”

“It wasn’t,” Isaac said heavily. “And it wasn’t yours, either.”

Ellis buried their face in his chest and sobbed. He flinched as they pressed against his bruise, but didn’t loosen his arms around them. He laid his cheek against the top of their head and swayed with them.

“What happened?” Vera said behind him, her voice tight with worry.

Isaac raised his head to look at Vera and Tori as they walked in. “They—”

“They found out about what Gavin and Isaac have been up to,” Gray said with a sigh.

Finn lifted their head to look between Gray and Vera. “You… you _knew?_ Before last night?”

“Of course we did,” Gray and Vera said at the same time.

Finn turned to Gray, looking deeply wounded. “But… when you… when you bet me… you _knew?_ ”

“Of course I did,” Gray said, inspecting their nails. “And I took your money. You owe me… how much was it?”

“Twenty,” Finn said weakly.

“Hm,” Gray murmured with a smile.

“Tori,” Isaac said uneasily. She stared at him with dull eyes. He swallowed and loosened his arms. Ellis stepped back and wiped their face on their sleeve. “Everything… everything okay?”

“Wh-what’s going on?” Tori mumbled through trembling lips. She cringed against Vera’s side. Her gaze flicked between Gavin, Isaac, and Ellis, where they sniffled in Finn’s arms. Her eyes fixed on Gavin. “Did… did he—”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “Tori, we… we were just, um, talking. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do _anything._ ” His hands shook.

Tori licked her lips. “Is it… is it about the sex last night?”

Isaac’s mouth fell open. “Did… _everyone_ … hear?”

The room was silent.

Gavin whimpered. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Only Ellis and I heard it—” Finn started.

“—and Tori and I,” Vera finished. “Because our rooms share walls.”

“I already knew,” Gray said, raising a hand. They grinned smugly.

Isaac buried his face in his hands. “Oh, god,” he murmured. “I thought… I thought this was… was going to…”

“…be a disaster?” Vera said with a laugh. “It is, dumbass.”

“Why?” Tori said softly, still clinging to Vera. “Why would you…? I…?” She licked her lips uneasily as she stared at Isaac.

Isaac’s gaze flicked to Gavin and back to Tori. “Um…”

“He already, um, h-hurt you like that,” Tori said weakly. “I kn-know he, he _had_ to, but… Isaac…” Her voice dropped. “You don’t _have_ to anymore.”

Gavin hung his head. A flush burned on Isaac’s cheeks. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he looked at her.

“I want to,” he said, his voice trembling.

Tori dragged in a quick breath. “You… you _want to_ … with… with _him…?_ ” She glanced at Gavin.

Isaac chewed his lip. “Yeah,” he rasped.

Tori blinked, dazed. _“…why?”_

Isaac’s stomach churned. “Um…” He looked at Gavin. Gavin’s expression was shot through with guilt, with a bone-crushing _shame_ that made Isaac’s heart ache. He reached out and squeezed his hand. “Because I… I want him.” He turned to look at Tori again. “He… he saved us, Tori. He was _so_ damned strong for us. He did what he had to, got us out when he could. And he… he’s _different,_ Tori. He’s… one of us now. He’s a _good person._ ” He pulled Gavin closer to him. “I w-want him. And I’m sorry, I know it’s weird, and, and we have so much to… to handle, but…” His head fell forward. “…please don’t hate him for this. I wanted him, the… the whole time we were… were there.” He squeezed his eyes shut as his blush deepened, the shame of wanting Gavin as Gavin was raped rising up and crashing on him all over again.

The kitchen fell into a shocked silence. Isaac opened his eyes and raised his head, terrified of what he’d see. Tori stared at Gavin, anguished.

“I still haven’t forgiven you,” Tori whispered.

“You don’t have to,” Gavin said quickly. “You _never_ have to. I… I understand.”

“But I w- _want_ to,” Tori murmured, taking a step forward, away from Vera. She held out her hand behind her and laced her fingers through Vera’s. “I…” Tears shone in her eyes. “I thought we lost you,” she breathed. “I thought you broke. I thought you… _liked it._ ” Her lips trembled as she looked at Gavin.

“I never did,” Gavin whimpered. “Please believe me, _please._ I n-never did. I hated it, I hated, hated it, every fucking _minute_ …” Gavin’s hand shook in Isaac’s. Isaac squeezed, and Gavin squeezed back.

“You were ours,” Tori said softly, tears tightening her voice. “I thought you were _ours._ I thought you were turning _good._ ”

Gavin flinched.

Tori’s eyes widened. “Not good like, like what your mother wanted, but good like…” She glanced around at the others. “I thought you were our _family,_ like maybe you could be part of us.”

“I want that,” Gavin said, his eyes fixed on her.

Tori took another step closer, so close she could have reached out and touched Gavin. Isaac’s body tensed. The instinct stirred in him to push Gavin behind him, to defend him against what Tori was going to try to do. _Will she hit or punch or kick or bite or how do I keep him safe how do I keep them all safe how can I fight one of my family to save another what do I do what do I do WHAT DO I DO..._

Tori pressed her lips together as she looked at Gavin. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak. Gavin went perfectly still.

“I believe you,” Tori murmured.

Gavin whimpered. He reached out with one hand hesitantly. “Can I—”

“No,” Tori said quickly, leaning away from him. Gavin’s hand closed into a fist and he pulled his hand away.

“Okay,” he said weakly. “Thank you for, for telling me that.”

Tori fell back a step, her eyes still fixed on Gavin. She gave a quick nod and returned to Vera’s side.

Isaac’s head snapped up as the black cat he’d seen before walked around the corner and trilled at the kitchen at large. Just behind it came Sam, their shoulders stooped, their right arm still slinged. Isaac dropped Gavin’s hand and stiffened.

“S-Sam,” he croaked.

They still had dark circles under their eyes that stood out against unnaturally pale skin, but they looked better than they had in…

Since they were taken.

“What’s going on?” Sam said, their voice tight. They cradled their arm in its sling. “What happened?”

Isaac’s heart lurched. _They don’t know. They don’t know, how am I going to_ tell _them…?_

He wet his lips. “Um…”

“Time for a pill, Sam?” Finn said, pulling the bottle from their pocket. Their eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Yeah,” Sam gasped. “Please.”

“The pain any better?” Finn said, dumping out a pill and dropping it into Sam’s hand. Gray went to a cabinet. They pulled out a cup and filled it in the sink.

“Um…” Sam’s breaths came heavy. “N-not really,” they said softly.

“Okay,” Finn whimpered. Their hands went to Sam’s shoulder and pulled their shirt down to expose the bandages on their upper arm.

“Here,” Gray said as they held out the cup. Sam popped the pill into their mouth and took the water.

“Gray,” Isaac said weakly, “You mind if I go take a walk with Sam? Do dishes after breakfast?”

“Not at all,” they said, their gaze moving between Isaac and Sam. “Take your time.”

Sam swallowed the pill down and turned their gaze to Isaac. “Isaac?” they rasped. “What’s going on?”

“Just wanna talk to you,” Isaac said, and turned toward the back door of the house. “Walk with me?”

“Sure,” Sam said uneasily. They turned to follow Isaac. They threw a glance at Gavin as they walked out of the kitchen.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam followed behind Isaac as he walked down the hall and out the back door of the house. He paused to pull his worn leather boots on, and helped Sam step into their shoes. He pulled in a deep breath and walked towards the lake. The sunrise painted the sky in bright oranges and reds, stretching out above them forever, clearer somehow than when they were south. Isaac drew in another slow breath.

Sam walked quietly by his side. Their breaths weren’t so ragged as they were yesterday, though Isaac knew it would be painful for weeks. He winced at the memory of his own cracked ribs, and at his own dull ache with every breath. They walked through the overgrown grass of the yard, untended. _The place must have been empty for a long time when Gray moved in._ The quiet _swoosh_ ing noises their shoes made against it made Isaac feel just a little calmer.

Soon the grass gave way to sand. It shifted under Isaac’s feet. His hands curled into fists as he walked slowly, making sure Sam could keep up. When they stumbled, he stopped and took their shoulders in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think about it, that… Do you want to just sit? Would that be alright?”

Sam trembled in Isaac’s grasp. “Um…” They looked past Isaac and bit their lip. “If we could, could make it to that log there and sat down, that would be…” They drew in a quick breath. “That would be, would be good.”

Isaac glanced behind him at the log just at the edge of the water, roots gnarled and twisted towards the sky, the wood bleached by the sun. He nodded. “Sure,” he said weakly. “But please don’t, um, push yourself. I know that—”

“It’s fine,” Sam said breathlessly, and started walking again.

Isaac swallowed hard as he walked just behind Sam, watching how they limped as if their left leg was hurting them, how they shuddered every time they jostled their arm. When they reached the log and Sam lowered themself down, Isaac heaved a sigh of relief with them. He sat beside them and looked out across the lake, almost perfectly flat and reflecting the brilliant sky above them. A bird called in a nearby tree, and another answered it. Isaac breathed in the clean, cool air and felt his shoulders relax slightly.

They were quiet for a long time. Sam breathed stiffly beside him, rocking every now and then, holding their arm carefully against their body. Finally they took in a stilted breath and wet their lips.

“Finn’s been keeping the pain meds,” Sam said softly.

Isaac turned, his eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“The pain meds.” Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Finn’s holding onto them, giving them to me one at a time. They say it’s so I don’t develop an addiction. Apparently morphine’s really hard to come by and they don’t want me having withdrawals.”

Isaac’s gut felt ice cold. “And do you… think you’re developing an addiction?” He laced his fingers tightly together.

“No,” Sam huffed. “Like I said, I _can’t_. I don’t get to take more when I want to _._ But it’s just…” They gritted their teeth and took another breath. “It hurts. And it… makes me mad that I can’t have more.”

Isaac chewed the inside of his cheek. “Pain still the same?” His hands itched to hold Sam, to ruffle their hair, to push back against everything in the world that threatened to hurt them. Somehow, he felt like that wasn’t what they needed right now.

“Yeah.” Sam winced. “Hasn’t gotten, um, better. I don’t know when it _will._ ”

“What does Finn say?”

Sam scoffed weakly. “Finn says it should’ve been getting a little better by now.”

Guilt twisted in Isaac’s stomach. “Oh.” _Muzzle flash. Spray of blood. Punch to his chest. Falling to the ground with Sam on top of him, bleeding. Always bleeding._

Sam’s lips trembled and they bit down hard on their lips. Their head tilted back and they looked at the sky, tears brimming in their eyes. “S-something’s wrong,” they whispered.

“Can I touch you?” Isaac murmured. Sam was still for a moment, then nodded. It sent the tears rolling down their cheeks. Isaac drew closer and took their hand, squeezing it in both of his. He tried to keep his hands from shaking.

“I d-don’t…” Sam’s voice went tight with tears. “I don’t know what, but… something’s… n-not working.” They shivered and leaned against Isaac.

“What’s not working?” Isaac said softly, leaning back so he could see their eyes. “What’s not working, Sam?”

Sam shivered and looked down at their right hand where it rested in the sling. “My hand,” they whimpered.

Isaac’s eyes fell shut against the sudden burn of tears. His shoulder was nothing, his right hand was nothing, they were things Isaac could deal with. It was just pain. It was just his pain. But the idea that Sam may be permanently damaged from a mistake _Isaac_ had made…? Dread crept into his heart as his gaze moved over them. They looked up and met his eyes, their own wide and filled with tears.

“Wh-what’s wrong with your hand?” Isaac rasped. His throat worked as he swallowed the searing guilt that tightened there.

“Um…” Sam glanced down at their hand again. “I c-can’t move it.”

Isaac’s stomach lurched like he’d just been punched in the gut. _“What?”_

Sam whined softly and their face twisted. “I, I don’t know if it’s from, um, the bullet, or…” They shook their head fiercely. “It’s not Finn’s fault. It’s _not._ But I d-don’t know if, um, it’ll get better, b-but…” They winced. Their thumb and forefinger jerked in a clumsy, uncoordinated movement. The other fingers didn’t move at all. “And I’m, um, numb.”

Isaac swallowed the bile that crept up his throat. He forced down a sob, willing his voice not to shake. “Where?”

“Um…” Sam gulped. “L-last two fingers. And, um, the inside of my wrist. A-and my forearm.” They pressed their lips together and whimpered.

“Oh, god,” Isaac whispered. “Oh _fuck_ …” He was crumbling in on himself, collapsing. _Sam won’t recover from this. Finn can’t go in and fix this. They can’t fix nerves._ He knew enough about the human body to know that that’s what this was, the bullet had torn through a nerve, and there wasn’t a surgeon in the world who could fix it that would be willing to treat Sam. He slumped forward. His arms wrapped around his chest. “No…”

“I don’t know what to do,” Sam whispered. They whined softly and pressed their left hand to their face.

Isaac’s hands jerked and he was pulling them into his embrace before he heard the gasp of pain and stopped. He angrily swiped the tears away and forced himself to look at Sam, at the tears staining their cheeks, at the way they winced with every breath, at the sling that concealed the truth: the damage caused by the bullet would probably _never_ heal. He ran his hands through his hair and forced out a breath through his teeth.

“Sam, h-have…” He curled his hands into fists. “…have you told Finn?”

“No,” Sam whimpered. “I don’t want them to, to _blame_ themself, I know they will, because they… they’re just like _you,_ Isaac, sometimes…” Sam trembled and moaned softly as it jostled their arm. “They blamed themself the whole time C-Colleen had us. They blamed _themself._ I saw it every time they, um, touched me. They did their best and it _still_ wasn’t enough and—” They cut themself off with a horrified gasp. “Oh, god. I didn’t mean that. Oh, I… I didn’t mean it wasn’t enough, I meant… nothing they could have done would have… um…” They reached out and grasped Isaac’s arm. “Please don’t tell them I said that. Oh, god, I’m so… _sorry_ …”

“S-stop,” Isaac mumbled, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. “I swear to god, Sam, _stop._ Please.”

Sam raised their eyes to Isaac’s. Tears clung to their eyelashes. “S-stop what?”

Isaac rocked forward and pressed his face into his hands. He groaned. “Just… stop apologizing. I know what you meant, and if Finn heard you, they would, too.”

Sam let out a shivery breath. “I just don’t want them to think it’s because of, um, the surgery. I kn-know they, um, they did their best, and no one else could have done it, and… and they saved my life, but they won’t, um, see it that way.”

Isaac blew out a breath through pursed lips. “I know.”

“I just…” Sam experimentally moved their thumb and forefinger again. They winced and gripped their right hand with their left. “Ahh. Um… I just wish it could be numb, um, up here.” They pointed to their shoulder. “Because it feels like a, um, a hot poker going through my arm.”

Isaac clenched his jaw. “And the pain meds don’t help?”

“No,” Sam breathed, their face twisting. “They do. They do. Just… not very much. Not enough to sleep very well.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Isaac whispered. He grasped their hand and squeezed.

Sam huffed out a pained laugh. “The cat helps, though.”

Isaac paused and turned to Sam. “The cat?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a faint smile. “Gray’s cat. Nata. He’s been sleeping with me since we got here. He’s, um, really nice. It’s like he knows when the pain is really bad.”

One corner of Isaac’s mouth pulled up. “Just like Gray.”

“Yeah,” Sam said as they leaned against Isaac. “Just like Gray.”

The sky lightened over them. The clouds faded from their oranges and pinks until only their edges shone a brilliant gold. The lake shimmered in the slow breeze.

Sam took a shallow breath. “What did you need to tell me?” they murmured, looking out over the lake.

Isaac curled in on himself slightly. “Ah. Yeah. Um…” _I’m fucking the man who hurt you, tortured you, broke you. I’m fucking the man who hurt me, too, and made me hurt for months after that. I’m fucking the man that nearly got us all killed. But I want him, I_ love _him, so fucking much, and he makes me so fucking happy._

Sam turned their eyes to Isaac, worried and so damned _hurt._ Their eyebrows pulled together and they searched his face. “What is it, Isaac?”

Isaac shook his head. “Shit.” He let go of Sam’s hand, so they wouldn’t have to touch him after he told them. So they didn’t have to touch him when they found out Isaac was just some twisted, broken thing that folded at the first soft touch he’d felt in ages. When they found out Isaac gave in and _liked_ it when he was tied down and fucked while someone watched his humiliation, just because it came from someone he thought he might have feelings for, when he was trapped in the middle of a nightmare. They didn’t have to touch him when they found out that Isaac was so fucking _weak_ that he’d accept any love that was offered.

_No. Gavin deserves more than that. He deserves so much more than that explanation._

Isaac set his shoulders and stared out across the water. He wet his lips and held his breath before he spoke.

“A lot happened between Gavin and I at Colleen’s house,” he said softly.

Sam leaned back and huffed out a breath. “Oh. Yeah. With the… um…”

_…with the rapes, done by a man I already wanted, and I would have let him do it even if I wasn’t in chains._

“Y-yeah,” Isaac croaked. “Um… he’s… Sam, you know he’s different. I know you do. And when he was… when we were…” He cleared his throat. “I know the guards did the most to, um, to you. And that he, um, was forced to watch most of the time.”

“Yup.” Sam’s expression was unreadable.

Isaac swallowed uneasily. “But you know he… he never wanted that.”

“Yeah,” Sam murmured. “I know.”

“You know how much he loves us?” Isaac said, his voice weakening.

“I th-think so,” Sam said with a wince. They adjusted their arm slightly in its sling.

“Well I…” Isaac’s throat worked as he swallowed again, his insides tingling with dread and worry. _After this, they won’t want to have anything to do with me. After this they’ll, they’ll_ know _, that I’m… that I’m…_

The refrain was always the same, no matter what. _I’m weak. I’m worthless. I don’t deserve I don’t deserve I don’t deserve…_ Isaac shook himself and forced the thoughts away.

“I love him, too,” Isaac whispered. He shivered in the light tendrils of the breeze as it moved over his skin. He waited for Sam to respond. They blinked and stared across the water. Slowly, they drew a ragged breath in through their nose.

After a long moment, they opened their mouth. “Why _him?_ ” they murmured.

Isaac’s head fell forward. _Because I’m weak. Because I’m broken. Because I want to punish myself by keeping my torturer in my life, in my_ bed, _and I’m so fucking selfish that I don’t care if he hurt the others, too…_

_No. I love Gavin because…_

“Because he’s a good man… now.” Isaac shifted uncomfortably. “He’s made so many sacrifices to keep us alive. Because he’s different, and he’s _changed,_ and I trust him. And because he’s good to me.” Isaac’s voice faltered. “He’s so… Sam, he’s _so_ damned good to me. He wants me to be safe. He wants me to feel, to feel _good._ He’d die for this family, Sam.” Isaac’s eyes burned with tears. “He almost died for this family. He’s one of us now. And I don’t know why. I don’t know how it happened. But I… l-love him. And I want to be with him.”

Finally, Sam brought their gaze back to Isaac’s. Old hurt burned dully in their eyes. Isaac quailed when he saw it.

“Does he make you happy?” Sam said.

_“Yes.”_ The word rushed out of him.

Sam searched Isaac’s face with their gaze. After another moment, they reached out and clasped Isaac’s hand again. “Okay,” they murmured.

Isaac dared to draw in a slow breath. “Okay?”

Sam chewed their lip. “Does he feel the same way?”

Isaac nodded. “Yeah, Sam,” he breathed. “Yeah. He does.”

“Hm.” Sam’s eyes fell closed and they shuddered weakly. “I thought so.”

Isaac balked and his mouth gaped open. “You… you thought so?”

Sam nodded. “Mm-hm.” They hissed and held their left arm tight to their chest as they breathed. “I thought he might be… um…” They gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t think he had any idea what love felt like before he left his mom. So I wasn’t sure, but… it looked like he was starting to feel that way for you.”

Isaac’s mouth was dry. “When?”

Sam gaze a wry smile. “While we were south. It just… looked like he had feelings for you.”

Isaac forced his shoulders to relax. “Well… he did.”

“Hm.”

Isaac let out a breath. The breeze ruffled Sam’s hair and tickled on the half-healed cuts on Isaac’s arms. He ran his hands through his hair and looked at Sam again. “You ready for breakfast?”

Sam shifted and smiled. “Yeah,” they said softly. “I’m, um… I’m hungry today. I kinda haven’t been, but today…” Another shrug.

“That’s good,” Isaac said warmly as he rose and held out a hand to Sam. “That’s a good sign.”

“I know you couldn’t eat for a while, after,” Sam said, and winced.

Isaac’s head dropped forward. “Yeah,” he rasped. It was such a well-trodden path, such a familiar burst of _my fault my fault my fault I deserve…_ He shook his head to clear it. _Will I ever be able to live without that? Who am I without my shame?_

He gently rubbed the back of Sam’s neck, longing to pull them into his arms, sling an arm over their shoulders, just _touch_ them, remind himself that they existed, that they were safe, that they were _alive._ He’d so very nearly lost them. They’d so very nearly died in his arms and—

_STOP._ He _hated_ the refrain, the constant pulse of shame in his head that he’d never even realized was there. He _hated_ the never-ending ache in his chest that reminded him of what he was, what he’d _done._ He hated the dread that came with every time he wondered, _will I ever be enough?_

_Will I ever heal?_

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again. He turned towards the house and began the short walk back.


	17. Chapter 17

As they reached the house again, Isaac helped balance Sam as they stepped out of their shoes. He kicked off his boots and turned to walk into the kitchen. Sam caught his hand and pulled him back against them.

“Thank you,” they said softly, and wrapped their left around his waist. They laid their head against Isaac’s chest and squeezed him gently.

“For what?” Isaac’s voice shook as he moved to wrap his arms around them, then thought better of it and just pressed a kiss into their hair instead.

“For, um, for telling me.” Sam pulled away and met his gaze. “I know that wasn’t, um, easy.”

Isaac huffed out a laugh. “No,” he murmured. “It wasn’t. But… thank you for listening.”

“Of course, Isaac,” Sam said, and gave a rueful smile. “You’re my big brother. And if he makes you happy… and…” Sam wet their lips. “He’s good. He’s ours. And it… makes sense.” Sam’s stomach growled loudly.

Isaac lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll have to ask you what _that_ means after you’ve eaten.” He took another step towards the kitchen. “Come on.” Sam smiled and followed behind.

As he moved further into the house, the smell of breakfast washed over Isaac. _Gavin was right. I love Sunday breakfast, too._

He came around the corner to find the whole family, even Edrissa, in the kitchen. Tori and Vera sat on the barstools, Vera’s eyes fixed on Tori, her eyebrows pulled together, her mouth in a hard line. Gray, Finn, Ellis, and Edrissa were cooking breakfast. Gavin was setting the table in the front room.

Isaac smiled. “Need any help?” he said.

“Nope,” Ellis said as they flipped over some bacon, sizzling and popping in the pan, cooking over a stove that was twice as big as the one at the house in Crayton. “Almost done, actually. Can you take the plate of eggs in? The bacon’s almost done, too.”

“Sam, how about you sit down?” Isaac said gently. Sam nodded, sweat just breaking out over their skin as they bit their lip. Isaac’s stomach twisted. “Sam?”

“Sometimes the pain just flares up,” they panted, and held their arm tight to their side. “I d-don’t know why. I’ll be, be fine—”

“Do you want to just go lay down?” Isaac said, drifting to their side as if pulled there. “I can—”

“No, it’s okay,” Sam breathed. They walked slowly into the front room and sat down heavily in one of the chairs around the table. They leaned against the table and squeezed their eyes shut. 

“Hey, dumbass.” Isaac turned to see Ellis holding out a huge plate stacked high with scrambled eggs. “Sooner you get the table ready, sooner Sam can eat.”

“R-right,” Isaac mumbled, and turned towards the front room. 

As he walked in, Gavin walked past him and smiled shyly. His fingers brushed Isaac’s arm as he did. Isaac blushed and set the plate on the table. 

“I refuse to live with you two if you continue _that,_ ” Ellis spat over their shoulder as they followed Isaac in, carrying a huge plate of bacon. Their voice was softer somehow than Isaac expected. He met their gaze, and they rolled their eyes… playfully. Isaac’s shoulders relaxed. 

Isaac walked past them back into the kitchen, and was met with a steady stream of the family into the living room carrying plates of toast, containers of butter, salt and pepper shakers. Last in line was Gray. 

“That’s it,” Gray said softly, squeezing Isaac’s shoulder with their free hand. Their other held a bottle of hot sauce. 

Isaac smiled weakly. “Got the most important part,” he said. 

Gray smiled back. “Absolutely I do.” They paused. Isaac’s shoulders tensed. “How did Sam…?”

“They took it well,” Isaac said, and glanced at the floor. “I mean… not like _Ellis_ did, at least. I think they’re… um… hurt.”

Gray shrugged. “All things considered, I think they have a right to be.”

Isaac’s heart sank. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled. 

Gray ducked into his field of vision. “But so do you. And you found a way to accept him.”

“I found a way to _love_ him,” Isaac breathed. 

Gray leaned back. A smile played at their lips. 

Isaac tilted his head. “Did you _really_ bet Finn on us being… um…?”

Gray snorted and rolled their eyes. “They made it too easy. Of course I did.”

Isaac swallowed the lump in his throat. “Then… when…?”

Gray laughed. “Before you left on the mission.”

Isaac’s jaw dropped. “Are you… are you… _serious?_ Why didn’t you say anything? Why… you _knew?_ ”

“It wasn’t my place to… insert myself.” Gray’s lips quirked into a smile. “This was your thing to figure out. If I pointed it out, it might not have happened.”

“Did you _want_ it to happen?” Isaac stared at Gray in bewilderment. 

Gray’s smile fell a little, and they squeezed Isaac’s shoulder again. “I want you to be _happy,_ Isaac,” they said softly, sadly. “Whatever form that takes. God knows you… you’ve suffered enough.”

_Not enough to atone for what I did to Sam._

Isaac groaned and buried his face in his hands. 

Gray rubbed Isaac’s shoulder, their hand stopping just above the cuts on Isaac’s arms that showed below his short sleeve. _I never used to wear short sleeves._

“It… it _kills_ me to see you fall into that,” Gray said gently. 

“Into what?” Isaac mumbled through his hands. 

“Into your self-loathing. Self-hatred. You have suffered more than any human should have to suffer and you still… you _still_ think you deserve it. For whatever sins you think you’ve committed. Isaac…” Gray’s hand closed gently around Isaac’s wrist, over the stitches and the cuts that were just starting to heal after the last time Isaac tore them open. They slowly pulled his hand down away from his face. He looked up at them, fighting the burn behind his eyes. “There’s nothing you do, nothing you _have done,_ that would deserve what you’ve been through. Not even close. So when I say, you deserve to be happy, and this thing you have with Gavin is a _good_ source of that happiness…” They pressed their lips into a line. “…I mean it.” 

Isaac’s mouth twisted into an attempt of a smile as he blinked back his tears. “Thanks, Gray. I don’t know what this is with Gavin. I just know that I…” He shrugged and let out a breath. “I don’t know.”

“You have the time and safety to do that here,” Gray said gently. “We’re miles away from the nearest person. With the supplies I get from Crayton, we can live here indefinitely. No one on earth but us knows Gavin is alive, except for us. We—”

“Two others,” Isaac said quickly. “Topher and Lucy. They helped us when Sam needed surgery.”

Gray paused. They slowly closed their mouth. After a moment, they dragged in a breath. “Oh. Well…” They shrugged. “You’re safe here. You can heal, figure it out…” Gray smiled again. “No matter how that works out.” 

Isaac huffed out a half-laugh. “Thanks. I—”

_“Will you stop with whatever angsty-ass conversation you’re having and get your asses in here?”_ Ellis called from the other room. _“We’re hungry!”_

Isaac laughed, louder than he meant to. “Coming,” he called back. He turned back to Gray. “Thanks for having this angsty-ass conversation with me,” he said with a grin. 

“Any time,” Gray said, and walked towards the living room. “We have the time, now.” 

∴

As Gray and Isaac walked into the living room, Gavin’s heart lifted. He knew, of all people, Gray would accept them, Isaac and him, together. Not just tolerate them, but… but _accept_ them. Gray, of all people, wanted Gavin to be happy. And Gavin was happy with Isaac. 

As soon as they both sat down, Isaac at Gavin’s side, and Gray at the head of the table, everyone fell on the food. Gavin loaded his plate with eggs and bacon, grabbed a slab of butter and spread it thick over a slice of toast. He covered his eggs with hot sauce. He lifted the first bite to his lips and savored them, the first good, hot food since he—

He pushed down that thought with a shudder. Since he left his mother’s house, with the gourmet chef in the kitchen and the finest ingredients that could be found in the region, all served hot and on time. 

He’d rather eat nothing at all than have remained at his mother’s house a moment longer. He looked around at the others, all digging into the food, each and every one his family. All sitting together in this house, still cool from nighttime but somehow warm and full of light. His heart swelled in his chest, and he sighed. 

Isaac smiled at him and reached over to squeeze Gavin’s knee under the table. Gavin’s skin tingled under Isaac’s hand. 

A gasp. “I _knew_ it.” 

Gavin’s head snapped up and he looked at Edrissa, who was staring back at them both, a look of horror and _confirmation_ on her face. Gavin paled and swallowed hard. 

“Oh, geez,” Isaac whispered under his breath.

“I… I _knew_ it,” Edrissa breathed in disbelief, her eyes darting between the two of them.

“Um… y-yeah, Edrissa,” Isaac said, his voice shaking. “We…” 

“Wait,” Gavin said, his eyebrows pulling together. “ _How_ did you know?”

“With…” Edrissa swallowed as she stared at both of them. “With… the bounty hunters. When you… well, earlier, when you—” She thrust her chin at Gavin. “—were in the basement of that safehouse and… and _you_ …” She thrust her chin at Isaac. “…and…” She licked her lips as she looked at them. “I… I just didn’t think…”

“With the _bounty hunters?_ ” Gavin said in disbelief. He glanced at Isaac. Isaac’s eyes were wide and stared right back at him. “You knew… _then?_ _I_ didn’t even know then.”

Edrissa’s eyebrows pulled together and her mouth twisted. “Then… then you’re stupid,” she said.

Gavin fell back in his chair. “Well… yeah. I am.” 

Edrissa held Gavin’s gaze for a second more, then turned back to her food with a curt nod. Everyone around the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“Well,” Gray said delicately. “Points to Edrissa for noticing first.”

Isaac burst out laughing, the sound tight and strained but still _warm._ Still _Isaac._

Then tension broke as everyone else burst into peals of laughter. 

Ellis rocked forward, tears in their eyes as they heaved with laughter. “You… you _are_ … such a fucking dumbass…” They gasped for breath and held their stomach. “Edrissa is queen for saying it.” They awkwardly held out their hand to Edrissa. Edrissa flinched back, staring at the hand for a moment, suspicion moving through her face. Then she raised her hand and slapped it against Ellis’s. She smiled as Ellis leaned back and _sobbed_ with laughter. 

Gavin felt the weight on his shoulders lift, just a little. He turned back to his plate with a shy smile and took a bite of a crispy piece of bacon. 

_Even when my mom had all the fucking resources in the world, she somehow didn’t get bacon this good._

A stab of something dark and awful shot through him. Something like grief. Something like _loss_. _I shouldn’t fucking miss her._

But he missed his father still, and mourned for him all those months ago when he was killed. Killed by the woman sitting across the table, eating a piece of toast as she looked at Tori, sitting quiet and reserved in her chair. 

The table fell into a different sort of silence. Comfortable. The only sounds were crunching bacon and the clink of silverware against plates. Gavin swam in the silence, his eyes threatening tears. _This is what it could have been like, to have a family._

_I can have that family now._ He looked over at Isaac, and blushed when he found Isaac staring right back at him. 

Gray cleared their throat. “I wanted to stay at the house as long as possible when you first showed up, to make sure everyone’s settled down properly. But with you staying with me, I’m going to need more supplies. Food, obviously, toiletries, and some medical supplies as well.” They looked at Finn. “If you could provide me with a list…”

“Absolutely,” Finn said excitedly. “What can you expect to find? I’d really love saline, more IV kits, and… and any narcs you can get your hands on, we have less than I would like…”

“I’m given to understand that Crayton can provide us with ample amounts of ‘the basics’, whatever that means,” Gray said with a smile. “Like I said, make a list and I’ll see what I can do. Edrissa, would you like to come with me?”

Edrissa smiled and nodded. “Yes. I… there’s a store I want to go to. They have, um, they have these really pretty threads and I was thinking I could… maybe… get some more fabric?” She glanced around the table. “Practice making clothes? I could make a, a scarf, maybe a shirt, or…” She glanced at Sam. “Maybe I could make you a nicer sling,” she said. Her cheeks reddened. Gavin’s eyebrows went up, bewildered. 

“Um, yeah,” Sam said softly. “That sounds, um, really nice.” They offered a shy smile to Edrissa. 

Gray turned to Vera. “Vera, would you mind coming with us?” They dipped their head. “I wouldn’t ask, especially not so soon after you getting back, but… having someone with us with experience in… tactical solutions might be prudent.” They shrugged. “From what I understand, things have been a little _chaotic_ in Crayton since the…” Gray glanced at Gavin. “…Stormbeck overthrow.”

“Of course,” Vera murmured, and gently squeezed Tori’s shoulders. Tori leaned into the touch. 

“And when we get back,” Edrissa piped up, “Can we…” She bit her lip and looked at Vera. “I want to… um… learn to fight. Like you. Not, it doesn’t have to be today, but…” She shrugged, and the motion was a little tight. “I want to be like _you,_ ” she said softly.

Vera sat up a little taller in her seat as her mouth fell slightly open. “Um… yeah.” She grinned. “There’s a barn out back, it would be perfect for practicing. Out of the way. Maybe we can…” She glanced at the table, thinking. “We could try to find some mats. Maybe a fake knife. That could be…” She glanced at Isaac. “Isaac could help. He’s great to practice with, knows a lot of stuff I don’t—”

“No thank you,” Edrissa said in a rush. “I…” Her face darkened. “I don’t want—”

“That’s okay,” Isaac said quietly. “I don’t have to touch you. Or even help. Not if you don’t want.” 

Gavin had seen the fear in Edrissa sometimes when Isaac got too close. He’d seen how she backed up when he walked past, how she went perfectly still sometimes when he looked at her. Guilt burned in his stomach, old and so, so familiar. _That’s because of people like me,_ he thought bitterly. 

Edrissa looked back to Vera. “Just you,” she said softly. “I… I just want it to be with you.”

Vera dipped her head. “Absolutely,” she said, the excitement still running through her every movement. “I still remember some drills. I’d be happy to help.” 

“Thanks,” Edrissa said, her voice fading. She shot a glance at Gavin. A shadow of a smile passed over her face. 


	18. Undeserved Reputation

Gray smiled gently as they drove, avoiding potholes in the road caused not by violence, but by the simple, innocent freeze and thaw of the ground. The sun was already high in the sky after more than three hours of driving. The sky was clear, the air clean and cool with the northern summer that was already well under way.

Edrissa sat in the passenger seat, almost completely turned around, chattering happily to Vera in the back seat. Every now and then, Gray and Vera met eyes in the rear view, and Gray could read something like _gratitude_ in her gaze.

“…and there’s this store in Crayton that sells _three_ different kinds of lace!” Edrissa said, the wispy blonde bun at the top of her head bobbing along as she spoke. “And there’s a lot of cotton, I mean, obvious, but they also sometimes have some nice linen and I think that’s what I’ll make Sam’s sling out of, so it breathes. Because it gets hotter up here than I thought it would, because I thought it wouldn’t get very hot _at all_ and it’s already May and it’s been pretty warm, and the winter was so cold so I just kind of assumed it would stay cold. I mean, it’s been _nice_ outside. Maybe when it gets a little warmer we can go hang out at the lake, maybe do a picnic, I mean it’s not very far from the house but it’s really pretty and I’ve already been in it and it doesn’t go that deep, but it _is_ really cold. Before that I hadn’t been swimming in so long. But yeah, I think I’ll do the sling out of linen, and I hope they have blue because that’s Sam’s favorite color.”

She paused to take a breath. Vera grinned at her.

“It is Sam’s favorite color,” Vera said, and Gray was tempted to give Vera a conspiratory nudge. “What else have you been up to while we’ve b-been—” Her voice wavered for just a moment. “—gone?”

“Um…” Edrissa’s mouth twisted and she leaned towards Vera. “Yeah, um, a lot. Gray said, Gray said I could paint my room if I wanted, but I haven’t found the right color. They’re all so… so _garish._ ” Edrissa flipped the stray wisps of hair out of her face and looked to Vera, eyebrows raised, as if she was waiting for something.

It was so good to see Edrissa looking for Vera to assure her not that she was safe, but that she was… _cool._

“Abso _lutely,_ ” Vera said with fervor. “Sometimes walls just need to look _sophisticated._ ” Edrissa lifted her chin, and her mouth pulled into a wider smile at the word.

_“Exactly,”_ she said with an emphatic nod. “ _Sophisticated._ I was thinking I could do a whole thing with a mirror on the wall and, and maybe a nice painting if I can find one that captures the… the…” Edrissa stumbled for a moment, her eyes still fixed on Vera. “…the _atmosphere_ I want.”

Sadness dragged at Gray’s heart. _She hasn’t been allowed to make her own choices,_ any _choices for two years. And I remember how much I just wanted to be_ me _when I was eighteen._

They pressed their lips into a line to stop the corners of their mouth from falling.

“That sounds like such a great idea,” Vera said, her face breaking into a smile again. “And… Tori and I wanted to start a garden out back. It’s a little late for planting, but… if we get seedlings, would you want something?”

“Yes!” Edrissa cried, and distractedly tapped Gray on the shoulder. For a moment Vera looked at Gray in delighted surprise. Edrissa hadn’t let anyone but Tori and Vera touch her since she’d been rescued almost five months ago. Gray knew the easy touch on their shoulder spoke volumes of the healing she’d done just in the past three weeks.

_I wonder how much of that is time away from Gavin._ Gray pushed the thought out of their head. 

“Oh, my god, I totally forgot. Last time I was in Burmingham, they had little mint plants. Gray said they wanted some, and I forgot!” She turned to Gray with an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry, I—” Edrissa shivered. Her eyes went distant. She curled into herself slightly, shrinking back against the door of the car.

“It’s alright, Edrissa,” Gray said gently, never taking their eyes off the road. “I’m not hurt. I’m not angry. It’s just a mistake, right? Mistakes are alright.”

“Mm-hm,” Edrissa said uncertainly. She relaxed slightly.

“Remember your counting?” Gray said, low and calm.

Edrissa jerked her head in a nod. She took in a deep breath. _“One two three four five,”_ she muttered, and shook out her hands at the wrists with each number.

“Good. Let’s do it again, together.” Gray’s hands were steady on the wheel, never faltering. Watching the pavement of the road disappear under their car.

Edrissa drew in another deep breath. _“One two three four five,”_ she and Gray said together as she shook out her hands, her quavering voice mixing with Gray’s steady one.

“One more time. Deep breath, _one two three four five._ ” This time, Edrissa, Vera, and Gray said it together.

Gray glanced at Edrissa, at how her shoulders hunched just a little more than they had before, at the dullness in her eyes that reminded them so much of… of _Vera_ , when she was under. Their mouth made a hard line.

“S-sorry,” Edrissa murmured. “I j-just…”

“It’s alright, Edrissa,” Gray said evenly, passing the first few houses on the north outskirts of Crayton. “Everyone has moments, and you were just having a moment.”

“Having a moment,” Edrissa said softly. “Just having a moment.” She smiled tightly at Vera, the corners of her mouth twisting in embarrassment.

Gray’s heart ached for Edrissa, for the girl who had just been going on and on about her room and her fabrics not thirty seconds ago and was now trembling, embarrassed, frightened. Vera leaned forward and put her hand palm up on the center console. An invitation, not a demand. Edrissa fit her hand into Vera’s, and Vera squeezed.

“Tell me more about what plants you want.”

Edrissa offered a wider smile. “Um, I like osteospermum,” she said, her eyes shifting down. “And sunflowers. I like the tall kinds of flowers.” She looked up at Vera. “I had to get a book on plants that do okay with the, the climate up here, because down south it was always—” She cut herself off and swallowed hard. “I like the colorful tall kinds of plants. I’d try for a rosebush but I think it’s too hard for this year.”

“Hm.” Vera nodded. “Well, I’d like to try some raspberry and strawberry bushes. And we could build a shade for the garden, in case the sun is too much.”

“Y-yeah,” Edrissa said softly. She sat back slightly in her seat until Gray pulled onto the main street of shops. They eased the car into a spot along the sidewalk. When Gray stopped, Edrissa shook herself slightly and looked up.

Gray put the car in park. “I was thinking you two could get out here,” they said, indicating with their hand the store that had regular deliveries of fabrics. “I should go to the town hall and check in with Daniel Schiester. I understand your check-in was… rushed.”

“And good fucking thing, too,” Vera said quietly, her jaw clenching shut.

Gray dipped their head. “I don’t exactly appreciate the way he’s spoken to you in the past, so I thought I would make this visit alone. Make sure he feels in control of the situation. Stroke his _comically_ over-inflated ego.”

“I swear to god, he’d make a great fucking syndicate leader,” Vera said, rolling her eyes. She opened the door and climbed out, moving stiffly. Edrissa got out, too, and drifted to Vera’s side.

Gray rolled the passenger window down and leaned towards it. “Shouldn’t take longer than twenty minutes. If you move on from here and I don’t catch you, I’ll meet you in the square in an hour, and we can get lunch. Sound like a plan?”

Vera nodded and cocked her eyebrow. “Have fun with DFS,” she said, snidely.

Gray’s brow furrowed. “DFS?”

Vera bent forward and leaned into the car. “Daniel. Fucking. Schiester,” she said, her voice nearly gleeful with contempt.

Gray snorted and leaned back. “Ah. I’ll have to try not to call him that to his face.”

Vera straightened and shrugged. “If you do, get pictures of his reaction.”

Gray laughed and put the car in drive. “See you soon,” they said, and pulled away.

∴

As Gray got closer to the town hall, their hands tightened on the wheel. Something itched in the back of their mind, something about how Daniel looked at Vera with fascination, with _humor._ As if he was watching a _dog_ performing tricks. Saccharine. Amused.

Something in the back of their mind stirred at how Daniel looked at _Gavin._

There was something there, between them. Gray doubted they had ever actually met. Perhaps it was just morbid, spiteful fascination on Daniel’s part, fascination with the syndicates who ruined the lives of the victims he saw every day. Perhaps it was buried rage, resentment that people like Gavin’s family were the reason Crayton had to exist at all.

Perhaps it was something else, though Gray wasn’t sure what.

Gray pulled in front of the town hall and parked the car. They sat quiet in the seat, staring at the front door, already feeling the tension headache starting. They breathed a sigh, turned off the car, and got out.

Inside the atrium it was cool, dark, and empty, just like it almost always was when refugees weren’t being processed. Gray’s hands tightened into fists and they began to climb the stairs to Daniel’s office.

The stairs creaked under Gray’s feet, their footsteps muffled by the dark green carpet. They made their way to the landing and turned in the direction of Daniel’s office. They almost hoped he wasn’t in today. Their hands clenched tighter as they walked down the hallway, almost feeling the urge to tiptoe, to not make any noise.

Gray grimaced. _I’m being ridiculous._

They stopped in front of the door to Daniel’s office. They knocked.

“Come in,” came the deep, even voice. Gray’s face fell. They turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Daniel glanced up from his work on his computer, then looked up and pushed himself away from his desk. “Mx. Uriah,” he said, standing, and held out his hand. “Always good to see you.”

Gray’s skin felt cold as they shook Daniel’s hand once.

“Mr. Mayor,” they said stiffly.

“Ah,” Daniel said with a smile. “I suppose if I wanted you to call me by my first name, I should have begun with that courtesy. Forgive me.”

“Old habits, on my end,” Gray said, and forced their mouth into a smile.

“Right.” Daniel sat back into his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk. “What can I help you with?”

Gray had to stop themself from staring at the pictures of refugees on the walls. Those pictures definitely weren’t of every single refugee Daniel had saved, they couldn’t be. There couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty people in those pictures, and Gray knew Crayton could see that many in a busy week. Maybe those refugees held some meaning for Daniel. Gray didn’t want to pry.

If they were perfectly honest with themself, they didn’t want to _ask._

“I’m sure at this point that you are aware that my family has returned from the south?” Gray said, meeting Daniel’s eyes.

Daniel grinned. “Ah. Yes. The triumphant heroes return, quite successful, I’m given to understand. Colleen Stormbeck is dead, and the region is destabilized.”

“That’s right,” Gray said. “They were successful, although at great cost to themselves.”

Daniel’s mouth turned down. “You don’t mean that any of them died…?” He turned to rifle through some papers on his desk. “When my people checked them in, all six were—”

“They all came back alive, yes,” Gray said, their heart twinging. Their gaze fell. “But they all came back with some sort of… permanent… mental or physical scarring.”

“Hm.” Daniel leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. “When you say they all came back alive, I’m assuming you’re not including the Stormbeck boy in your count.”

Gray blew out a slow breath. “When he left here, his name was Gavin Uriah.” They raised their gaze to meet Daniel’s, his eyes a cold blue that always seemed to pierce through Gray. “But yes. He is dead.”

Daniel huffed out a silent laugh. “Generous of you to allow him to take your name, considering everything he’s d—”

“I don’t wish to discuss the rehabilitation of Gavin Uriah,” Gray said softly, their cheeks reddening. “I am fully aware of your opinion of him, and of redemption in general. The fact is when he left here, I had become rather fond of him. And I’d like to let his memory remain for me what he was: a broken boy who died trying to set things right.” Gray’s stomach churned.

Daniel was silent for a moment, regarding Gray coolly across his desk. After a long moment he nodded and said, “Just more evidence for the syndicates’ cruelty, then. I’m sorry your family was the target.”

“So am I,” Gray murmured. They glanced around the office and returned their gaze to Daniel. “But they had to check in with your people in the dead of night and move on without proper processing, as one of them was gravely injured. I wanted to make sure nothing was missed, and answer any questions you had.”

“No, nothing was missed,” Daniel said with a winning smile, waving his hand. “I know that your team arrived in no condition to follow protocol, and the people who checked them in are very thorough.”

“Good,” Gray murmured. The hair on the back of their neck tingled. “Did you need anything from me?”

“Actually, I could use your assistance,” Daniel said with a smile. “Due to the instability of the western region, we are already seeing an increase in the frequency and number of refugees, and am very certain that will only continue to increase. Summer is always a busy season for us, but I am anticipating unprecedented numbers. At the moment, I currently don’t have the people to handle this efficiently. Your family is particularly suited to assisting with refugees, given the nature of your work. I was hoping to recruit you in the processing, if you’re able.”

Gray nodded. “Of course. I can’t speak for the others as they are all convalescing, but I would be happy to help. I will pass on the request. I have no doubt they will offer what they can, as soon as they are able to travel. A few of them may be ready now.”

“Whatever you can do will be appreciated,” Daniel said, and stood, offering Gray his hand. Gray took it. “Always a pleasure, Gray. When you and your family are ready we will orient you with our process.”

Gray nodded. “I’ll keep you posted. Until then, stay well, Daniel.”

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled and sat down. He turned back to his work.

Gray turned and left the office, closing the door behind them. They walked down the hall, their steps quickening, their shoulders tightening. They made their way down the stairs and across the atrium. By the time they pushed through the doors out into the sun, they were nearly jogging.


	19. Bleeding through the Bandages

Sam jerked awake. Pain lanced through their arm and dragged them out of the fevered nap they’d slumped into after breakfast. They whimpered as the pain spiked and burned, flashing warm across their skin. They groaned and sat up in bed, cradling their arm.

The warmth moved down their arm to their elbow, where it disappeared into the numbness on the inside of their arm. Sam swallowed, their hand shaking as they held their arm out slightly away from their side, their shirtsleeve cut away to give Finn better access to the wound.

Blood was running down their arm from the bandages.

Sam swallowed again, and harder, as they maneuvered themself up and out of bed. Their arm settled in the sling they never took off. Sweat broke out over their skin as they steadied themself, the pain rocking through them again until their vision went black for a moment. They stumbled towards the door and into the hall that led to the living room.

Finn and Ellis were doing a puzzle on the coffee table, their legs touching, their shoulders bumping together. Ellis had barely let Finn out of arm’s reach since they’d escaped. Ellis had been broken, and then healed again when they were returned to their family. Sam was still broken, and now they always would be.

They gritted their teeth and stepped into the living room.

Finn glanced up as they heard Sam come in, then sat up, eyes wide, as they saw the look on Sam’s face. Sam did their best to hold their voice steady.

“I’m, um, b-bleeding,” they rasped.

Finn leapt to their feet and crossed the room in three strides. They guided Sam to a couch and eased them down. Their hands went immediately to the gauze on Sam’s arm, and the blood soaking through it, partially hidden by the sling. Finn lurched back to their feet and disappeared down the hall.

Ellis was pale as they stood, their eyes fixed on Sam. “Sam,” they breathed. “Are you… um… okay?”

_No, I’m not okay, Ellis. I’m bleeding and I_ hurt _and I just want the pain to stop and…_

Sam bit their lip. “Um, I’m, I’ll be okay.”

Ellis’s hands shook as they took a step towards Sam. “C-can I… um…?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam breathed, nauseated with the pain. They leaned forward and cradled their arm.

“Wh-what happened, did you—”

Finn rushed back into the room, the bag of supplies they’d gathered up from Gray’s stores held tight in their hand. They knelt beside Sam on the floor and started rummaging through.

“Did something happen?” Finn said, their voice low and strained. “Did you fall or something? Or, or catch the stitches on something? Did you—”

“I was asleep,” Sam said, holding back tears. “I was just, um, finally a, _asleep_ and I sort of startled awake, and I guess, and my arm was bleeding.”

“Okay,” Finn said softly. They reached behind Sam’s head and carefully undid the knot tying the sling in place. “I need to get this off you, so I can look. Go ahead and hold your arm up— yeah.” Sam cradled their arm in their hand – they had to stop themself from thinking of it as their _good_ hand – as Finn pulled away the sling. Finn sucked in a quick breath, and Sam glanced down at their arm; the bandage was entirely soaked through, and the side of Sam’s shirt was stained with blood.

“Let me see,” Finn said as they unwound the bandage from around Sam’s arm. The bandage was sticky with blood. When it fell away, Finn let it drop into Sam’s lap. “Going to have to wash those anyway,” they muttered. They grabbed another packet of gauze from the bag and tore it open.

Sam’s head swam as Finn gently pulled the bloody gauze away from the wound. They bit their lip as Finn caught the tiny rivulet of blood in the fresh piece of gauze. Finn carefully inspected the wound, then covered it up again. They pressed gently into Sam’s arm, and they bit back a cry.

“You popped two stitches,” Finn said gently. “It’s okay. Doesn’t look like there’s any serious damage.”

“It _feels_ like there’s damage,” Sam said through their teeth. Their vision blurred with tears.

Finn pressed their lips together. “The best place to repair those is in the bathroom. If I help you, do you think you could make your way over there?”

Sam drew in a slow breath, then nodded.

“Okay. Good. Good. Ellis?” Ellis’s head snapped up and they met Finn’s eyes. “Can you grab the bag and bring it to the bathroom?” Ellis nodded, near frantic. Finn grabbed the bloody bandages from Sam’s lap and pulled them to their feet, the bandages in Finn’s hand staining Sam’s shirt. They kept their other hand on Sam’s wound. Sam bit their lip and wobbled on their feet.

“You good?” Finn asked softly.

“Um, y-yeah,” Sam said, pain thudding through their arm like a jackhammer. “Yeah. L-let’s—”

“Sure.” Finn began to guide them into the kitchen.

Sam looked at Finn, confused. “I th-thought… the bathroom…?”

Finn’s eyebrows pulled together. “Yeah. There’s one just off the laundry room. A bit more room in there and there’s a walk-in shower with a bench if you need to—”

“Sounds good,” Sam bit out. Finn’s hand pressed against their arm felt white-hot. Burning them. Keeping the blood in.

Sam stumbled through the kitchen and into the laundry room that doubled as a mud room. Finn turned and pushed a door open. Sam’s head spun. _How did I miss this before?_ They bit down hard on their lip. The pain in their arm didn’t overshadow the pain in their other wounds, it sharpened it. Intensified it. The whip marks on their back flared as if they were brand new, and the pain in their ribs threatened to crush them with every breath. Sam panted and slumped in Finn’s grasp.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sam, come on, just a little farther, okay? Just let me get you to the bench. Just a few more steps.”

Sam lifted their head and saw a plastic bench against the wall in a tiled shower, stained gray with years of use and grime. They stumbled forward and nearly fell out of Finn’s grasp in their need to just _sit down._

Finn eased them to the bench, leaning them back against the wall of the shower. Ellis appeared in the doorway with Finn’s bag, their eyes wide. They dropped the bag to the floor and wrung their hands.

“Finn,” they said, their voice shaking. “Do you need—”

“Help me get their shirt off,” Finn said curtly. Ellis stepped forward.

Sam let their head fall back against the wall. “Finn,” they whimpered. “Why, why does it hurt so— Finn, please…?”

“I don’t know,” Finn said darkly as they and Ellis carefully eased Sam’s shirt up their chest and over their head. Slowly, slowly, they drew the shirt down Sam’s arms. Drying blood made their skin sticky.

“Oh, god,” Sam whispered, their stomach roiling. They lurched forward and shuddered, their skin breaking into a cool sweat.

Finn darted to the side and held Sam’s arm steady. Their other arm stretched across Sam’s chest, keeping them upright. “Sam? You gonna throw up? What’s wrong?” Their voice was calm on the surface, but twisted right at the end.

Sam trembled and squeezed their eyes shut, fighting down the bile that clawed up their throat. They moaned and leaned back. “N-no,” they said softly. “Sorry, Finn.”

“No, no, no, you’re okay,” Finn said gently. They glanced at Ellis. “Make sure they stay—”

“Yeah,” Ellis whispered. They sat down beside Sam and stabilized them on the bench.

Finn pulled their hand away from Sam’s wound again and crouched on Sam’s other side, inspecting closely. “Shit,” they breathed.

“What?” Sam whimpered. “Finn, what, is, is it—”

“It’s a little infected,” Finn murmured, and prodded the wound gently.

Pain exploded through Sam and they cried out raggedly. “Finn, _no,_ g-god, please don’t do that again…”

“Sam, I have to…” Finn leaned in closer, chewing nervously on their lip. “ _Shit._ I can’t do stitches through infected skin. I should… I just have to…” They turned and washed their hands in the metal sink near the door.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, their voice wavering. “What, what does that, _ahh_ …”

“Gray had some butterfly closures in here. They aren’t as good, but at least I won’t be…” Finn absentmindedly dried their hands on the clean towel hanging beside the sink. They checked their watch. “Dammit. I was hoping enough time had passed that—”

“I want another pill now,” Sam panted, leaning into Ellis’s arms. “Please, Finn, they aren’t doing anything, and I need… Please, Finn, the pill at breakfast let me sleep for the first time in, in _weeks,_ and maybe if I have one more, I can…” Sam heaved a sob, tears running down their cheeks. Their ribs screamed at them.

Finn stepped towards Sam and knelt beside them again. Their head dropped forward and their hand rested on Sam’s knee. “Sam… I can’t. If I just keep ramping you up, it’ll be that much harder to bring your dose back down. You’ll start having pain just as a reaction of withdrawal. It… it _sucks,_ I know, but trust me, this is much better in the long—”

“You _don’t_ know,” Sam whimpered, the room lurching around them. The pain was blinding. “You… you _don’t._ Finn, I was sleeping for the first time in _days_ and now I’m bleeding and it’s infected and…” They shivered and heaved a sob. “Wh-what if it, it doesn’t matter? What if I get, get septic again and you have to take my arm or I _die_ from it this time or…” Tears rolled down Sam’s cheeks. “Please, Finn. I just want to stop hurting. It just… We can handle it later if I get, um, get addicted. I don’t _care_ about that right now, I just want… _please_ …”

“Hey. Sam.” Finn guided Sam’s head up with a hand on their chin. “Look at me. _I am not letting you die from this._ Okay? I _won’t_ let that happen.”

“But what if it—”

“Then we figure it out,” Finn said fiercely. “Just like we always do. I’ll get better antibiotics. I’ll find another medical provider, a doctor or something. There’s no way there isn’t a single doctor in all of the north. I’ll find someone who can help you. Okay? I am _not_ letting this kill you.”

“Then… you can give me something else for the pain, and help me stop when I need to,” Sam murmured. Their skin shone with sweat. “You can… you can do _anything,_ Finn.”

_Except fix my arm._

Sam shuddered and bit down hard on their lip at the thought that forced its way into their mind. Immediately on its heels was guilt, _shame,_ ingratitude for all Finn had done. Sam would have died in Lucy and Topher’s garage if not for Finn. Sam would have died almost a year ago.

Finn hung their head. “S-Sam…” They squeezed Sam’s leg. “Once I, um, get rid of this infection, it won’t hurt as much. Okay? And…” They raised their head, thinking. “Maybe I could get my hands on some Toradol. Definitely not a long-term fix, you can only be on it for a week or so, but… it does really good things. Or maybe I could get some…” Finn fell silent as they thought. “I don’t know. We’ll see what Gray brings back.” Slowly, their eyes focused. “But for now, I can do things here.” They reached for the bag again.

“No more stitches, right?” Sam begged, sagging in Ellis’s arms. “Please, no more stitches…”

“No more stitches,” Finn said softly. “At least, not today.”

Sam’s lips trembled with a weak stab of relief. “Okay, um… I’ve been taking the antibiotics like you said, why hasn’t—”

“You’d be a lot worse if you weren’t,” Finn said as the rummaged through the bag. “A _lot_ worse. This is small. We caught it, and I can probably stop it from getting any worse.” They pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “This, though…” They looked apologetically up at Sam. “This is, um… g-going to hurt.”

Sam’s head fell onto Ellis’s shoulder. Ellis gently stroked Sam’s arm as they cradled them gently. _“No,”_ Sam whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” Finn said, their voice breaking. “I’ll make it quick.” They unscrewed the lid, poured some onto a square of gauze, and pressed it to Sam’s wound before Sam could open their mouth to beg again.

Sam threw their head back and _screamed._ Agony seared through them, burning their flesh, razing their nerves, as Finn pressed the gauze against the wound. Sam twisted away from the pain. Ellis’s arms constricted around them and held them down on the bench, while Finn pinned Sam’s arm against the wall and wiped the wound clean, gently scrubbing away the drying blood. Sweat soaked into Sam’s clothes, and they convulsed against the holds on them.

“Finn, _please,_ no, _no!_ ” Sam pleaded, yanking against Finn’s grip and crying out as it only made the pain burn hotter. “Finn, _no!_ No, no, no, _please_ …”

“I’m done,” Finn said urgently as they dropped the gauze to the floor and pulled Sam close. “I’m done. Worst part’s over.”

The lash marks on Sam’s back flared and they sobbed brokenly, twisting out of Finn’s embrace. They pushed Finn away and cringed back against Ellis. _“No!”_ they shrieked through their teeth. “Finn… d-don’t, don’t _touch_ me…”

Finn froze. Tears shone in their eyes as they reached into the bag again. Sam scrambled back, trying to hide between Ellis and the wall. “Finn, please, _no,_ d-don’t, no more, _please_ …”

Finn’s hand emerged from the bag with a tube of ointment. “It’s okay,” Finn murmured, their voice shaking. “It’s alright. It’ll numb you a little. It’s numbing antibiotic ointment. It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

Sam stared at Finn, their eyes darting over Finn’s face, trembling in Ellis’s arms, desperate for relief. “Finn…” they whispered. “Please… do you, do you _promise…?_ ”

_“Yes,”_ Finn said fervently. “I promise. No more alcohol. Just some numbing ointment, then the butterfly strips and bandages, then…” Finn swallowed hard. “Then another morphine. Then we’ll get you back to bed. Okay? That’s all.” Finn reached for Sam’s hand. “I _swear._ ”

Sam huddled against Ellis’s side. They could feel Ellis trembling, could feel the tension in their chest as they held back a sob. Ellis’s hand went to Sam’s hair and smoothed slowly through. Soothing. Gentle. Sam’s eyes slid shut and they whimpered against Ellis’s shoulder. “O-okay, Finn,” they whispered, and let Finn take their hand, turning their arm so they could reach the wound. Sam’s eyes flew open and they watched Finn, shuddering.

Finn squeezed out a strip of ointment onto a square of gauze and held it up to Sam’s arm. “Just a little bit of this, and then the strips. Okay?” Finn waited for Sam’s nod. Sam squeezed their eyes shut and turned their face against Ellis.

As Finn smeared the ointment against the wound, Sam stiffened and bit down on their lip against the scream that built in their throat. They panted and strained to keep still, to let Finn help them. To let Finn save them again, even though in that moment Sam wished they could just drop dead on the floor. Tears soaked into Ellis’s shirt, and Ellis gently cradled Sam’s head.

“There you go, Sam,” Ellis said gently, and kissed Sam’s hair. “There you go. Almost done.” Their voice had an almost sing-song quality to it, and it soothed Sam’s nerves. They groaned softly and relaxed a little into the touch.

Finn wiped away the excess ointment and reached into the bag again. They pulled out two butterfly strips. “Okay, Sam,” they said, their voice pitched low. “This is going to hurt again.” Sam whimpered and pressed their face into Ellis’s shoulder. “But it’s the last step, then you get some pain meds. Last step, then you can go to bed, okay?”

Sam bit down on their lip and nodded slowly.

“Okay.” Finn reached up and pinched the wound shut.

Sam shuddered and flinched back against the wall. They locked their muscles and forced themself to hold still for Finn.

Finn smoothed the strip over the wound with their fingers and reached for the second one. “Almost done, Sam,” they said urgently. “Almost done.” Sam cringed away as they pinched the wound shut again and put on the second strip. Sam slumped with relief when Finn pulled their hands away.

“Okay,” Finn said, and reached for more gauze. “Bandage, morphine, bed. You’re so close, Sam. Ellis, would you mind going and getting Sam a new shirt and pants?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Ellis eased Sam against the wall and slid out of the room. Sam shivered at the cold tile on their back.

Finn reached for the towel beside the sink and turned on the tap, waiting until the water was steaming before wetting down the towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up a little more,” they said weakly. They dropped to their knees and brought the towel to scrub the blood off Sam’s arm, away from the wound, smeared and stained all the way down to their right hand.

Sam flinched at the heat of the towel, then relaxed into the warmth as Finn cleaned the blood off their skin. They bit down on a sob as Finn gently scrubbed at the blood on their side, pressing on the bruises spread across Sam’s ribs. The pain in their arm was dulling a burning ache, like a hot coal was trapped under their skin. They slumped back, exhausted.

Finn took both of Sam’s hands in theirs and squeezed. “I’m so sorry,” they said quietly. “But you did so well. I… I really needed to do that.” They raised their gaze to Sam, their eyes rimmed red, the shallow lines on their face made deep with stress. “Thank you.”

Tears rolled down Sam’s cheeks, and they nodded. Ellis came back in with a clean shirt, this one too with the right sleeve removed, and a pair of pants. Finn helped Sam sit forward, and they and Ellis eased the shirt over Sam’s head. As it came down over their chest, Ellis blinked and shifted their eyes away. Sam flushed with shame.

_They’re looking at my bruises._

Finn cleared their throat. “Ellis, will you hold their arm away from their body?”

Ellis adjusted their hold on Sam and reached around them to gently support their arm, keeping Sam firmly in their embrace. Finn gently placed the gauze over the wound and wound a fresh bandage around it. They tied it in place and tied a fresh sling under their arm and around their neck.

“How does that feel?” Finn murmured, checking the sling and bandages. Sam drew in a breathless gasp and nodded. Finn nodded once and looked to Ellis. “Okay. Help me get them up?”

Sam groaned as Finn and Ellis eased them up off the bench and to their feet. Finn steadied Sam as Ellis gently pulled Sam’s pants off their hips, and gently sat them down again. Then the clean pants went over their legs, and they went back to their feet so Ellis could pull the pants up. Sam wobbled in place, their cheeks flaming with embarrassment. _Can’t bathe, can’t dress myself, can’t eat without help._ Their hand latched onto Finn’s sleeve until they could stand without the room pitching around them. They took a step forward. Finn and Ellis supported them and guided them out of the room.

Sam walked through the kitchen, barely feeling the hands on them. They shivered as the pain in their arm spiked and faded, twisting their stomach but nowhere near what it had been when Finn soaked the wound in alcohol. They shuffled their feet as they moved through the living room and down the hall to their room.

As Finn pushed open the door, the black cat on Sam’s bed lifted his head and trilled at Sam. Sam’s lips pulled into a tentative smile as Finn and Ellis eased them down until they were seated on the bed. The cat got to his feet and stretched, first arching his back until he was nearly folded in half, his orange eyes sliding shut, then sticking his back feet out behind him, one at a time.

Finn took the ever-present pill bottle from their pocket and dumped a pill out into Sam’s hand. Sam tossed it back, and gratefully took the cup of water from their nightstand out of Finn’s hand. Finn gently cradled Sam’s shoulders and helped them lay down on their left side, taking the pressure off the lashes on their back. Sam sighed as the room stopped swaying for the first time since they woke up. They slumped back against the pillow, their eyes sliding shut.

Finn drew the covers up over Sam, brushing their sweaty curls back away from their face. After a moment, Finn bent and kissed Sam on the forehead.

“If you need anything,” Finn murmured softly, “You come get me. Okay? If you start bleeding again, if the pain is… is too much, you come get me.”

Sam nodded weakly. “Okay,” they sighed. They felt the jostle as Finn stood up. They heard the door close as Finn and Ellis left the room.

They felt the air move as the cat – Nata, Gray called him – sniffed Sam’s face. They felt the warmth against their chest as the cat curled up in the space between Sam’s slinged arm, and their chin.

They felt the vibration as the cat began to purr. Then they drifted.


	20. "I Know You're in There Somewhere" Fight

The sky was streaked with brilliant pinks and oranges as the sun set over the lake. The trip to Crayton had taken all day: three hours there, two hours of shopping, three hours back. As Gray pulled up in front of the house, the front door opened. Finn and Isaac walked out.

Vera immediately tensed, icy panic sweeping through her. “What… they…”

“They would’ve contacted us if it was something really bad,” Gray said evenly, using the same tone of voice they had with Edrissa when she slid back into herself. Speaking like Vera was an injured animal. For a moment, it made Vera’s hackles raise.

Edrissa stared out the window, her hand already on the door handle as Gray pulled into the space for the car. “Wh-what if it’s Sam?” she whispered. “What if it’s, it’s _Sam,_ what if they—”

“Hey,” Gray said as they put their car in park and turned it off. “Let’s—”

Vera and Edrissa both barreled out of the car and rushed to Finn and Isaac.

“What happened?” Vera demanded.

“Is it Sam?” Edrissa whimpered at the same time.

Finn held their hands out. They were shaking. Their eyes darted between Edrissa and Vera. They finally rested on Vera. Bitter fear clutched at her chest.

“Tori had a flashback,” Finn said quietly, and swallowed hard.

Vera’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh. I thought—”

“I mean…” Finn wet their lips nervously. “She’s still in one. And it’s _bad_.”

Vera pushed past Finn and Isaac. “Why didn’t you—” She cut herself off. It would have been useless if they _had_ texted them on the phone they’d taken with them. What was she going to do, drive three hours to help Tori with a flashback the others could probably handle on their own?

_Clearly they can’t handle it._

_Don’t be a fucking asshole._

She pulled the door open and found Tori on a couch in the living room, trembling, her eyes wide, her chest heaving with sobs. Ellis sat beside her, their arms wrapped firmly around her. Almost as if they were holding her back from something.

Vera rushed to Tori and dropped onto the couch at her other side. Her hands shot out to hold her, then jerked back. “Tori,” she gasped. “Babe. Can I touch you?”

Tori turned her head towards Vera, her eyes looking right past her, unseeing. Seeing something else, some _where_ else, entirely. Vera was sure of it. She looked past Tori to Ellis.

“Has she said—”

“Nothing,” Ellis whimpered. “She’s said _nothing._ I can’t get her to talk at all. I don’t know… I don’t _know_ …”

“What set it off?” Vera murmured, forcing down the tears that burned in her eyes. “Why… what…?”

“She heard Sam screaming,” Finn whispered.

_“What?”_ Vera looked up at Isaac as he stood in the doorway, frozen with horror. “Sam… screaming? Why didn’t you—” He looked towards the hall to the bedrooms and took a shaky step. Edrissa followed right behind, her hands pressed to her mouth, closer to Isaac than Vera thought she had ever been.

_“Don’t,”_ Finn hissed, and stepped in front of Isaac. Edrissa lurched to a stop and fell back a step. “They’re sleeping. They’re sleeping for the first, first fucking time in, in _weeks._ _Don’t_ wake them up.”

Isaac’s hands clenched into fists and he drew himself taller as he glared down at Finn. His body was lined with tension. Vera’s stomach lurched as she recognized the look in Isaac’s eyes: _mission mode._

Finn grimaced and squared up with Isaac, shorter but so packed with a sort of exhausted desperation that they met his intensity. Edrissa’s eyes flicked between them where she stood, shivering and silent.

“I had to clean their wound,” Finn said raggedly. “It _hurt._ It’s getting infected. Then I gave them an extra morphine and now they’re _sleeping._ For the first time in—” Finn bit their lip, a flush creeping over their face. “You were out walking the lake with Gavin, so I didn’t feel the need to come, come _get_ you and tell you that… So don’t… _don’t_ wake them up, _please_ …”

Tori shivered in Ellis’s arms. Vera leaned closer, her gaze still fixed on Isaac and Finn.

Isaac stared Finn down for a long moment, trembling with tension. Gray moved to his side and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Isaac…”

Isaac blinked and looked up at Gray. His shoulders slumped. “G-Gray, I…”

“It’s alright. Breathe. You’re safe.” That same low, even voice.

_We’re all torn to pieces, and Gray feels like they have to put every single one of us back together._ Vera swallowed despair mixed with bitter shame.

Isaac’s gaze flicked back to Finn. “Finn… I… I’m s-sorry…” He opened his hands and took a quavering breath.

Finn stepped back and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “It’s okay. Just… please, they just need—”

“I know,” Isaac said, dipping his head. Shame lined his face.

“Where _is_ Gavin right now?” Vera said. “He—”

Tori flinched and whimpered softly. Vera’s gaze snapped to her and she closed her mouth with a click. She just wanted to hold Tori, just wanted to _hold_ her, but… god, if her touch made Tori beg not to be hurt… Vera shuddered and blinked back her tears.

“He left,” Finn said, gentleness returning to their tone. “Maybe to walk again, I don’t know. He’s nearby. This—” Finn glanced towards Tori. “—wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t want to make it, um, worse,” Finn said miserably.

Isaac took a step around Finn, towards the back of the house. He paused and turned back towards Vera. “Vera, do you— I wanted to wait until you got home before I went to check on him, but…”

“I can handle this,” she said, her voice shaking. “Go.”

Isaac stood frozen for a moment, his weight shifting towards the kitchen, but his eyes fixed on Tori. “Are you…?”

“Yeah,” Vera said, and jerked her chin towards the back of the house. “Go. He’d appreciate your company.”

Isaac flushed a painful-looking red. He wet his lips, nodded, and walked through the kitchen to the back of the house.

Edrissa stood frozen, looking down the hall to the bedrooms. Finally, she shot a glance at Finn. “I’m not going to wake them up,” she mumbled. “Just going to… to my room.” She disappeared down the hall before anyone could say anything.

Vera turned back to Tori, her gut twisting at the look of terror on her face. She sat huddled in Ellis’s embrace, her hands clenched into fists and her arms pulled against her chest, as if bracing for something.

Bracing for a shock.

Vera pressed her lips into a hard line to keep them from trembling. “Tori—”

The black cat trotted out from the hall. Edrissa was right on his heels.

“I didn’t wake them up,” she gasped, shivering, holding her hands out in front of her like she was pleading. “The cat was in their room and meowing so, so I let him out, but I didn’t wake them up, they’re still sleeping…” She turned and dashed down the hall. Vera heard a muffled thump as her door closed.

For a moment, Vera felt crushed under a landslide. There wasn’t a _one_ of them that hadn’t been shattered, broken so deep they’d never recover. There wasn’t a one of them who wasn’t exhausted, terrified, always one wrong word away from disappearing into themselves. She felt the drag of it, sucking at her limbs like she was trying to climb out of a bottomless pit of mud. _Just disappear. Just disappear. You know that nothingness is waiting for you, it always is…_

Vera shuddered and clenched her jaw so hard her head throbbed.

_No. Not again. Not now._

She forced herself to meet Ellis’s eyes. “Did you try… her… her r-rules?” The word scraped her throat raw like she’d swallowed a knife.

Ellis bit down hard on their lip and vigorously shook their head. “N-no,” they murmured. “No. I don’t… I don’t _like_ that… I didn’t want to, to say it…”

“That’s okay,” Vera said, her voice dragging with bone-deep exhaustion. “That’s okay.” She moved closer to Tori, close enough that Tori leaned against her side. “Tori,” she said, feeling like she was spitting out poison, “You can speak.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Tori gasped, sounding… _relieved._

Vera wished she could tear those words right out of her brain.

_I’ve made her hear me say these things for… for almost a year. I can take this for her._

“Tori, where are you—”

Tori’s gaze flicked to Vera’s, desperate and wild. “W-we need to kill Gavin,” she rasped.

Vera’s head dropped forward. Her face screwed up in pain. “Tori—”

“He’s not here,” she whispered, and clutched at Vera’s hands. “He’s not here. We have to, to make a plan. We have to get out, _have to kill Gavin._ ”

Vera’s eyes smarted. She glanced at Gray across the room, standing with their arm wrapped around Finn’s shoulders. Finn stared at Tori, wringing their hands, tears running down their cheeks.

She turned back to look at Tori. “No, babe,” she murmured. “We’re safe. We’re out. You remember getting out? You remember making it north?”

Tori’s eyes shone with a fevered light. “No,” she said, licking her lips and shaking her head. “No. He… he was hurting Sam. He made them, them _scream._ He was hurting Sam, I heard it, I _heard_ it, and you can’t…” She heaved a sob and cringed back, into Ellis. “You can’t… _tell_ me it didn’t happen, I _heard_ it, please, Vera, I’m not crazy, please don’t tell me that…” She whimpered and burst into tears, wrapping her arms around herself, rocking forward with each sob.

Vera lurched forward and gathered Tori into her arms. She pressed a kiss to Tori’s hair, focusing on the curls against her lips, on Tori’s smell, sour with fear, and tried so, so hard not to hear the hitched sobs, the gasps, as Tori trembled in her arms.

“That happened, Tori,” Vera said gently. “Sam was screaming. You didn’t imagine it. But it wasn’t Gavin. It was…” Vera shot a glance at Finn. Finn cringed away from her gaze, turning against Gray’s chest. “Sam’s wound opened. It hurt them. Gavin didn’t lay a _hand_ on them. Gavin wasn’t even _here._ But Sam’s sleeping now, babe. Sam’s safe. We’re all safe.”

Tori trembled and raised her gaze to Finn. Her eyes flashed, and her lips pulled back over her teeth as she snarled at Finn. “Then why didn’t you… why didn’t you _help them?_ ”

Finn squeezed their eyes shut and covered their face in their hands. “I did,” they whimpered. “I, I _did,_ Tori. I cleaned them up and fixed them and gave them more morphine. They’re sleeping. I did my best, I, I did my _best_ …” They raised their head and fixed Tori with a glare. “I did my _best._ ”

“Why does everyone keep hurting _Sam?_ ” Tori wailed. “They didn’t, didn’t do _anything,_ but they keep screaming and hurting and no one _helps_ them and…” She turned to Vera, desperation making her eyes wide as they darted between Vera’s. “Why won’t you let me _kill_ Gavin?” she whispered. “Or, or you do it, or, so Sam stops hurting? Why won’t you, I mean, he might let me do it, he, you’ve seen how he is, why, Vera, why, _why…?_ ” Tori lurched forward, clutching her chest. “You won’t… nobody will… why won’t someone help _Sam,_ they were screaming, and I, I don’t… Vera, _please_ …”

“Okay,” Vera murmured, and wrapped her arms around Tori, squeezing tight. “That’s enough. Come on, Tori, breathe with me. I’m getting you out.”

_“I am out!”_ Tori shrieked, and shoved Vera away. “I’m out, and, and Gavin hasn’t _paid_ for what he did, and _you_ —” Her hand shot out to point an accusing finger at Finn. “— _you_ won’t help them, and they were… were _screaming,_ and I can’t… _no_ …”

“Tori _stop,_ ” Vera snapped, and grabbed her shoulders. “ _Stop._ This isn’t… this isn’t _you._ Please, just…” Vera couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. One escaped down her cheek, then another. “… _stop._ Come back to me. _Please._ ”

_“This is me,”_ Tori spat through her teeth. “ _This is me._ Gavin hurt me, hurt _Sam,_ and this is _me._ Are you _you?_ ”

Vera leaned back, paling. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Tori snarled at her. “Are you _conditioned?_ Did Gavin make you think he’s _good?_ Has he… _brainwashed_ you, too? You think he’s brainwashed _me._ ”

“Tori…” Vera’s breaths came faster. “Tori, _no_ …” A chill poured down her spine. “Please…”

“You won’t kill Gavin,” Tori growled, her face twisting in rage and hate. Vera’s stomach dropped, and she was falling through space. She knew what Tori was going to say the moment before she did. “He brainwashed you, just like _Joseph._ ”

Vera shot to her feet, her chest heaving with a furious sob. _“Tori—”_

“Vera, come here,” Gray said, their voice sharp and carrying the tone of an _order._ “Now. Don’t engage. Step away.”

Vera turned her furious gaze on Gray. Her world was crumbling. Everything she and Tori had was blown apart by the words that had just come out of Tori’s mouth. She felt sick. She felt _destroyed._

“Vera,” Gray snapped. _“Now.”_

Tears of rage burned on Vera’s cheeks. “Why are you telling _me_ what to do,” she sobbed. “When _she_ just said—”

“Because I don’t want you to say anything you’ll regret. She’s under right now. You’re not. You can leave. I’ll stay here and help her. You go with Finn. Walk this off. You know she doesn’t mean this.”

Vera looked down at Tori on the couch. Tori glared up at her, her eyes streaming and tight with rage. Vera’s chest ached like she’d been punched – like she’d been shot. The one person she wanted to turn to for comfort right now, the _one_ person, was Tori. She wanted Tori to pull her into her arms and kiss her and comfort her and tell her everything was going to be alright…

_I don’t know if she’ll ever want me to do that again._

Grief crushed her and Vera heaved a sob.

Finn appeared at her shoulder and she jumped. “Come on,” they said, their voice twisting. “Let’s go outside. Gray and Ellis can handle this.”

Vera shoved her fist against her mouth and forced down the desperate wail that was climbing up her throat. “Okay,” she gasped, and threw a look back at Tori as Finn guided her towards the kitchen. “Okay.”


	21. Chapter 21

Vera slammed the door behind her as Finn guided her out into the yard, everything pitched a raw orange with the setting sun. Her chest was frozen, her throat spasmed shut, her lungs heaving at the sob that threatened to tear from her. She dragged her hands through her hair, knees shaking. Her stomach heaved until she thought she might vomit into the grass. She felt a shaking hand on her shoulder and lurched upright, her gaze finding Finn’s, desperate.

“She—” Vera choked and coughed on her own spit. “Sh-she—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Finn said stiffly, their hand still shaking.

“But she _said it,_ ” Vera hissed. “She… after everything she’s, she’s _seen_ and heard, she still said, that, said that Joseph… Gavin…”

“I know,” Finn said. Their other hand went to her shoulder and they steadied her. “You _know_ she didn’t mean it. She… a lot of us say things like that when we’re under.”

“She wasn’t _under,_ ” Vera snarled, and stepped out of Finn’s grip. “She said it herself.”

Finn pressed their lips together and pushed out a breath. “Vera…”

Vera heaved a sob and bent forward at the waist. She couldn’t… she _couldn’t_ let it in, couldn’t let the feel of Joseph’s collar – not Colleen’s, they felt different – wrap around her throat again, couldn’t fall in, couldn’t let Tori be _right,_ that Joseph had brainwashed her, and so had Gavin, so much so that she didn’t want to kill him, she _wouldn’t,_ she…

Vera groaned and straightened up. No matter what Tori said, under or not, Vera _knew_ Gavin hadn’t brainwashed her. She _knew_ it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to, to take this out on… _you_ …”

“You’re not,” Finn said, their voice high and strained with tears. “I know that. You’re just… _upset,_ I know, and it’s not your fault…” They ducked into Vera’s line of sight. “And it’s not hers either. You know that.”

Vera tilted her head back, letting her tears run into her hair. The sun was almost setting behind the low hills, far in the distance across the lake, almost blocked by the trees that ringed the other side. She closed her eyes against the raw wave of pain that crashed over her, drowning her, tearing at her insides.

“She… What if she doesn’t want to be with me after this?” she whispered. It felt like a curse, speaking the words out loud, as if saying it would make it true.

Finn hung their head. “I…” They crossed their arms over their chest. “I can’t speak for, um, for Tori. But… we’ve all been so hurt, Vera. We all love… someone who’s been hurt. And… we find a way. We find a way to stay together.”

“But _you don’t_ —”

Finn flinched and met her gaze. Their look was made only the more bitter by the shadow of acceptance, of bracing, of waiting for Vera to strike the blow. Vera bit down hard on her tongue to keep herself from saying it: _you don’t understand because you weren’t hurt. No one laid a hand on you or Ellis._ She shuddered. _No one laid a hand on me in there, either._

Finn watched her expectantly. Vera swallowed hard and looked at the grass at her feet. “S-sorry,” she murmured.

Finn drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Vera… Isaac has almost _killed_ people when he’s under. We all do bad shit, okay? We’ve all done bad shit because of pain.”

“But this is—”

_Worse?_

Vera’s jaw clenched as she looked at Finn. “You don’t.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t… what?”

“You don’t do bad things because you’re in pain.”

Finn leaned back on their heels and bit their lip. “Um…” They glanced at the house. “My bad things are… are medical fuck-ups.” Vera could almost feel the weight of more words hanging on them.

Vera tried to crack a smile and it felt like a grimace on her lips. “And sometimes being a dick.”

“I’m… I’m an _angel,_ ” Finn said tightly, with a twisted smile. Slowly, it faded. “I also just… haven’t been hurt nearly as much as any of you.”

Vera jerked her head from side to side. “Finn. No. There’s no compar—”

“Yeah, no comparing,” Finn said bitterly. “I get that. But at some point there is the _objective_ fact that I just haven’t been through as much as any of you.” They bit their lip and stared down at the grass.

Vera wanted to argue. She opened her mouth, but no words came. She let her mouth close.

She looked over the lake, where the clouds were fading to a warm purple. “Pain is relative,” she said finally, weakly.

Finn snorted. “Yeah, well…” They let out a gusty breath.

They stood in silence for a while as the light faded. Vera wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Always shivering against the cold. Always longing for a blanket or a coat or a body next to her to ward it off. Always feeling the shadow of cement pressed against her bare skin if she was cold for long enough.

Finn drew in a deep breath and let it out through their lips. “Ellis… has a lot of pain.”

Vera looked at Finn steadily and waited for them to keep going. “Yeah,” she said softly after a while.

Finn’s eyes were clouded with tears. “And that’s okay. I love them, and they come with pain. That’s it. But…” They pulled their hands roughly through their hair. “I don’t know what I was going to say. It’s not like they’re ‘the damaged one’ and I’m ‘the hero who saves them.’ We’re both damaged. We’re both hurt. We all are. It’s just that sometimes…” Finn bit their lip and drew in a shaking breath. “…sometimes it hurts more than usual. And I don’t have any advice for when that happens. Sometimes I have to step away. Sometimes I have to step closer. And I don’t know what Tori needs right now.” They met Vera’s eyes. “Or what you need.”

Vera barked out a laugh, twisted with the tears that threatened. “I’d settle for a hug right now.”

Finn stepped forward and tugged Vera into a tight embrace.

Vera shuddered, her arms winding around Finn’s neck, clutching them hard. Her fingers twisted in their shirt. Her chest heaved. She ground her face into Finn’s shoulder and started to shake with painful, racking sobs.

Finn squeezed her tighter and swayed slowly with her, back and forth, back and forth. They gently rubbed her back as she gasped and wailed against Finn’s neck, her chest aching like a fist had closed on her heart and was slowly crushing it. She trembled and clung to Finn, clutching at them, hanging on like she was dangling over a cliff.

She felt wetness on her shoulder and realized Finn was crying, too.

Vera cried harder, great, open-mouthed sobs tearing from her one right after the other. Everything from the past three weeks crashed over her at once, every scream, every moment of watching Tori suffer, every moment where she heard Isaac or Sam or Finn cry and could do _nothing_ about it. Every moment since they’d escaped weighed heavy on her, crushing her, every moment when she had to be strong for her family or they wouldn’t survive. Every moment where she’d carried Isaac as he fell apart, listened to Sam cry, felt Gavin’s hands on her throat as he tried to force her to take his life, all broke over her at once. Her lungs screamed at her as she struggled to draw a full breath.

“It’s okay,” Finn soothed. “It’s okay, Vera. We’re all safe now.”

“B-but… T-Tori, she, she, she got _hurt,_ and I _knew_ this would ha-happen and I, I _let_ her come, I, I _knew_ and I still… I was sup-posed to _protect_ them and I didn’t, and I, I watched and, now she’s… she’s—” Vera was cut off with a racking cough. “She, _no,_ she g-got hurt and now she’s, she’s _gone_ and I’ll never ge-et her, her b-back and Isaac is, is s-so hurt and _Gavin_ is, is, he’s asked me to kill him _so_ many fucking times now—”

_“What?”_

“—and Sam… _Sam_ …” Vera convulsed against Finn, dug her fingertips into their back until they winced. “S-Sam is, is, oh, _god,_ Finn, they’re, they—” She dragged in a wheezing gasp. “They’re so fucking, _h-hurt_ and I can’t _stand_ to hear them cry and I’m so fucking glad I wasn’t here when they were screaming because I… I can’t fucking… _take it!_ ”

“I-it’s okay,” Finn murmured, shaking. “I took care of it.”

“I know,” she whimpered miserably. “I know you did. Th-thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Finn said softly against her shoulder. They adjusted their arms where they were wrapped around Vera’s waist. “You s-said… you said Gavin has… asked you to, to kill him?”

Vera’s eyes fell shut, sending a cascade of tears down her cheeks. “Yeah,” she whispered.

She heard Finn’s throat working around a swallow. _“…why?”_

Vera huffed out a bitter exhale. “Because he thinks he _deserves_ it,” she hissed. “He thinks… it’s all his fault. That he’s like his _father,_ because of what he did to Isaac.”

Finn went still. “But he’s not—”

“It doesn’t matter what he is or isn’t,” she said through her teeth, opening her eyes and looking up at the sky, starting to twinkle with stars. “What matters is that Colleen _broke_ him.”

“No, she didn’t,” Finn said soothingly. “She didn’t break him. He’s still Gavin. He still loves us. He almost died getting us out.”

A shiver passed over Vera’s shoulders and she pressed her mouth to her arm. _“Gavin Stormbeck is dead,”_ she whispered against her sleeve.

Finn’s arms loosened around her and they stepped away, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “What?”

Vera’s mouth twisted. “Gavin Stormbeck is dead. He… I mean, we have to sell that, if we’re going to keep seeing Danny, but…” She shrugged jerkily. “It’s like he really did die. He’s not that person anymore. He’s… he really is Gavin Uriah now.”

“Names are powerful,” Finn said with a nod. They chewed their lip as they looked at Vera. “Why would we have to keep seeing Daniel?”

Vera scoffed and brought the neck of her shirt up to wipe her face. “Because he wants our _help,_ ” she sneered. After a moment, her expression softened. “He wants us to help him process the refugees that are going to be coming more often,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t have the manpower right now. And…” Vera shrugged, her shoulders slightly less tight. “I think it would be nice to… to help people without, um…” She wet her lips. “…giving so much.” She trailed off and wrapped her arms around herself, starting to shiver harder.

Finn nodded their head and crossed their arms over their chest. “That’s fair. And it sounds like we could really do some good with that. Even if we have to see—”

“—his royal motherfuckery—”

“—the mayor,” Finn laughed. “I honestly think it’s hilarious that not a single one of us likes him—”

“—not a single one,” Vera finished with a chuckle. The sky had faded to a dusky purple, with only a slash of pink on the horizon to show the sun had set. The moon had risen and was shimmering on the lake. Vera and Finn fell into a comfortable silence. She shivered again.

Finn glanced at her, then looked to the horizon with her. “You cold?”

Vera nodded. “Yeah. A little.”

“You want me to grab you a jacket?”

She shook her head. “Naw. I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“Okay.” Finn bit their lip, then looked back towards the house. “I can—”

“Go,” Vera said with a smile. “Go see Ellis. You two have a lot of time to catch up on.”

“No amount of time will be enough,” Finn said under their breath.

Vera’s lips quirked up, then turned down again as another wash of hurt and despair dragged at her mind like mud. She tried to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes.

“If you’re, um, okay…” Finn wet their lips, already leaning back towards the house. “I mean, if you—”

“Go on.” Vera jerked her chin at the house and tried her best to smile. “I’m good. Want to stay out here for a while.”

“If you, um…” Finn wrung their hands, awkwardly shifting their weight. “If you, um… want Ellis’s and my room tonight, we could… I mean, Ellis would probably be fine with it, we could sleep on the couches, it’s not—”

Vera held up a hand. “Thanks, Finn,” she said weakly, her voice wobbling. “If I need to, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. But thanks for offering.”

Finn nodded and turned towards the house. “Yeah,” they murmured over their shoulder. They walked back to the house, their steps quickening until they disappeared inside.

Vera turned back to look over the lake, breathing deeply. _If she doesn’t want to be with me anymore… If I let her get hurt too badly for her to want me… If she doesn’t trust me to keep her safe…_ She felt scraped hollow, empty, the raw edges of her hurt feeling enflamed and torn. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the cold seep into her skin, cool the tears that ran slowly down her cheeks.

She heard the door to the house open behind her. She stiffened, every nerve as cold as ice. She wouldn’t let herself think it, wouldn’t let herself _imagine…_ But it came to her mind anyway. _This is where someone comes to tell me she doesn’t want me to come back. That maybe I should just sleep elsewhere for a while, maybe in the car, until she feels safe enough to see me again…_ The footsteps were drawing nearer.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned. She rocked forward with a sob as she saw Tori walking slowly towards her, her arms crossed across her chest, her face shrouded in darkness.

As Tori got closer, Vera’s heart dropped. Tori’s face was lit dimly by the moon and twisted in something that looked like grief, like _shame._ Her eyes were pleading, almost desperate, and shone with tears.

Vera was frozen where she stood, her lips numb and useless. She let her hands fall to her sides. Tori folded into her arms with a sob.


	22. Chapter 22

Gavin was starting to give up on anyone coming outside to get him. He’d checked – not _watched,_ he wasn’t _watching,_ because that was fucking _weird_ – a few times as he walked around the lake, just barely able to make out the shape of the white painted house across the water, barely bigger than his thumb when he was all the way across, and lit up a warm orange in the setting sun. He’d know Isaac’s shape as soon as he stepped out, though. He’d know Isaac’s shape anywhere.

He was starting to shiver in his pants and long-sleeved shirt. He was already a little ways into his second lap of the lake. Each one took him about thirty minutes, he figured, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t wear a watch, and he hadn’t taken his phone with him when he’d fled his mother’s house with the others. For at least thirty minutes he’d been wandering around the lake, waiting for Vera, Gray, and Edrissa to get back from town. Waiting for Isaac to come get him. The last thing he wanted was to show his face. He’d done his best to stop making things worse when he’d walked into the living room after his walk with Isaac and seen Tori falling apart in Ellis’s arms, her eyes fixed on Gavin in terror, and he’d left.

And Isaac had stayed, to look after Tori until Vera got back.

_His first loyalty is to his family,_ Gavin thought with a wash of shame. _This is my fault. It would have been wrong if he’d gone with me, and left Tori. This is because of me. I’m the one who tortured her._

Besides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t stand to spend an hour or so alone. He hadn’t been alone in his mother’s house once, not really. Even when he was by himself in his room, finally having the privacy to cry his eyes out every night, there had still been guards posted at his door, and bars on his windows. He was no more alone in his room than he was free.

Gavin didn’t mind being by himself at all. After four months on house arrest with the team, and three weeks at his mother's house – twenty-three days of captivity, and Gavin had agonizingly counted every single one of them – Gavin just wanted _out._ He wanted to be able to walk outside, feel the sun on his skin, go wherever it is he wanted to go. Walking around the lake was the closest to peaceful he’d come in so long, he couldn’t remember. What did it matter that he burned with loneliness and shame? Isaac was still in the house because Tori had fallen apart at the sight of him. That was _his fault._ Being outside wasn’t a punishment, it was a gift he didn’t deserve.

_I got to go outside, when the others were chained in cells. I have nothing to complain about. I had it so much easier than every single one of them._ Gavin rolled his shoulders and glanced back at the house again, only a few hundred yards behind him.

Isaac was standing out front, carrying a bundle in his arms, looking in his direction.

Gavin’s heart leapt, and he nearly stumbled over himself as he turned around to hurry towards the house. His hands tingled with the desire to touch Isaac, just touch him, not wanting anything from him other than to just make him feel _good._ Gavin wanted to hold Isaac. Wanted to kiss him. Be near him, every day for the rest of his life. His heart ached as he quickened into a jog.

Isaac started to jog, too, then winced and lurched to a stop. He wrapped an arm around his chest and started to walk more slowly towards Gavin.

Gavin didn’t stop jogging, but he cringed internally, his face flushing with awkwardness. He was running towards Isaac like they were reuniting after fifty fucking years. Like he’d just watched Isaac crawl out of a collapsed building. Like Isaac was _his._

Gavin swallowed thickly. _Maybe he could be mine._

Gavin didn’t look away from Isaac, and he could feel the intensity of Isaac’s gaze, even from so far away. Gavin closed the space between them, slowing to a walk as he approached. Isaac’s hand tightened around the bundle in his arms and he looked at Gavin, his face creased with exhaustion and pain.

Gavin stopped, far enough away from Isaac that the space seemed to yawn between them. Gavin’s heart thudded in his chest.

“Is Tori—”

“She’ll be alright,” Isaac said wearily. “She really was just… really far under. But Vera’s helping her now.” Isaac drew in a deep breath. “She’ll be alright. Are you…” He took a step closer to Gavin, holding out his jacket to him. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” Gavin said, and his voice cracked. He took the jacket gratefully, and jerkily shrugged it on. “Yeah. I’m, I’m totally fine. I’m good. I’m…” He met Isaac’s gaze, and his stomach dropped. “…I’m good,” he said, quietly.

Isaac held Gavin’s gaze for a long time. Finally, he said, “It won’t be like this forever.”

Gavin shrugged again, and winced at how fucking _awkward_ he must look. “Yeah. Totally. Totally. I know that.”

Isaac took a step closer and took one of Gavin’s hands. Isaac’s fingers were warm. “Do you?”

Isaac’s gaze was soft as it moved over Gavin’s face. Gavin quailed, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. “Um… y-yeah.” His eyes burned with sudden tears and he blinked them back. His skin burned as Isaac looked at him, looking at him with… with _compassion._ With…

…love.

Gavin thought he might fall over.

“You…” Isaac huffed out a breath. “You know she didn’t get scared because of _you,_ right?” Isaac said gently.

“Oh, yeah,” Gavin said, his head bobbing quickly in a nod as shame reddened his cheeks. “I know. It’s, um, memories, and I know it’s not because of _today,_ but, yeah, I—”

“No,” Isaac said, and Gavin slowly closed his mouth. “She g-got scared because, um, while we were out walking…” Isaac paled slightly in the golden light of the sunset. “Finn had to clean Sam’s wound. It hurt a lot and Sam, um, screamed.” Gavin’s eyes went wide, and his stomach roiled. “And…” Isaac dragged a hand through his hair. “Tori, um, thought it was… you. Hurting them.”

“Oh,” Gavin said weakly. _That’s still my fault. I still did that. She didn’t just make that up out of thin air._

“But this _wasn’t your fault,_ ” Isaac urged. “You… didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, this time,” Gavin grumbled.

Isaac’s mouth twisted, and Gavin ducked his head. _Self-pity isn’t a good look on you, Stormbe— Uriah._ Gavin looked up at Isaac with tears in his eyes as Isaac pulled gently on his hand. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s head back. We can at least go in the back yard, hang out for a bit until Tori’s okay again. I brought this to sit on.” He held the bundle out from his side, and Gavin realized it was a blanket.

“Actually…” Gavin licked his lips and pulled Isaac in the opposite direction. “I found this, um, really nice spot a bit further this way. I was…” Gavin ducked his head shyly. “I mean, we don’t have to, we can totally go back, I just wasn’t sure if I should be there and it’s really nice and, um—”

Isaac laced his fingers through Gavin’s and squeezed gently. “Sounds good,” he murmured, and walked with Gavin.

Gavin’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He walked silently beside Isaac, their feet shifting in the sand. The wind ruffled Gavin’s hair, and he breathed in the chilly air that blew across the lake, shivering in the late-spring cold that came quickly at night. He cast his gaze to the sky and smiled as the clouds faded from pink to a dusky purple. He glanced at Isaac and noticed Isaac staring at him, a faint smile on his face.

Gavin blushed painfully. “Wh-what?”

Isaac smiled wider. “Just looking at you.”

“Oh.” Gavin swallowed dryly.

Isaac’s smile fell. He stopped and took both of Gavin’s hands in his, the blanket tucked under his arm. “I swear to god, this isn’t forever. You… you’re part of this family, Gavin. And this… isn’t how it’s always going to be.”

Gavin’s eyes filled with tears and he looked down. “Isaac…” He bit his lip and tried to keep his voice even. “S-Sam had a, a flashback… _nine months_ after I hurt them. And that’s… that’s _Sam._ They were willing to forgive me. Still are. But… Tori…” Gavin shook his head, his eyes sliding shut. “Tori never trusted me. Tori never even _liked_ me. What am I supposed to do… sit there while she has her flashbacks, because I’m ‘part of the family’ and she needs to get over them?” Gavin forced himself to raise his eyes to meet Isaac’s.

Isaac’s jaw clenched as he looked at Gavin, and Gavin knew that look _so well._ That determination that they’d find a solution, find a way to make it work, make it out, survive. It was one of the first things about Isaac that captivated Gavin, and to see Isaac feel that way about _him,_ to see Isaac fight that way for _him_ … It made Gavin’s skin feel too tight, made his lungs feel too large for his chest.

“We’ll… we’ll figure it out,” Isaac murmured, and cupped Gavin’s chin in his hand. “We’ll figure it out. What…” Isaac’s mouth hardened into a line. “What are we supposed to do when _you_ have a flashback? When you… when you can’t get away from it and you think of, of me… hurting you, or… or you remember hurting me? Am I just supposed to fuck off until you’re done? Do you really want me gone then?”

_“No,”_ Gavin whispered, Isaac’s face blurring with his tears. “But it’s… it’s _different._ Because we…” He fell silent, his eyes darting between Isaac’s.

“Because we what?” Isaac said gently, his hand falling from Gavin’s chin. Gavin’s skin tingled where Isaac had touched him.

“Because we…” Gavin bit down hard on his lip. _Because I’m still fucking you._ “I don’t know,” he rasped.

Isaac looked at Gavin for another moment as the light in the sky faded. He reached up and gently cradled Gavin’s face. “You…” His voice gave out. “You’re part of this family now. We all have… um… _problems_ that, that sometimes bump up against each other. Vera can’t stand to be around me when I… remember certain things. Vera being under hurts Tori. I hate watching Sam hurt. And now…” Isaac shrugged. “This is just another thing, Gavin. It’s just another thing. You’re one of us. You’ve hurt alongside us. You… you _saved_ us, Gavin. We’re not going to send you away.”

Gavin shuddered and just barely forced down a sob. _You’re just saying that because…_

He whimpered and turned his face in to Isaac’s palm. _Isaac, of all people, wouldn’t lie to me about this._ “Okay,” he whispered.

Isaac leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to Gavin’s lips. Gavin rose up to meet him, aching with want.

“Okay,” Isaac replied. He pulled back and smiled, his eyes shining in the fading light. “Let’s go see that place.”

“It’s not much further,” Gavin said, turning and pulling Isaac along behind him. “Just a little bit further up. It’s just… it’s just a nice, quiet place. And I…” He fell silent. Isaac walked quietly beside him, looking at Gavin curiously.

Gavin guided Isaac up the slope of the shore, up to where the sand gave way to grass. He maneuvered through a stand of trees to a patch of ground he’d cleared of leaves earlier, on his first lap around the lake. Trees stood around them on each side – some kind of birch, Gavin thought, and they didn’t grow down south – making it seem almost like a little haven closed off from the rest of the world. Above them, the branches gave way to the sky, a little patch of it where Gavin could see a few stars twinkling. He looked away from the sky, from the last denim-blue before night settled over them, and found Isaac looking at him again. He flushed and was grateful for the darkness.

“I…” He licked his lips and took both of Isaac’s hands. “Um… the ground is a little, um, damp, but…” He forced himself to meet Isaac’s eyes, the warm brown looking almost black in the darkness. “…I want to just… lay with you. And look at the stars. You couldn’t see the stars for, um, twenty-three days, Isaac, and it was too bright in Fort Meyers to see them anyw—”

Isaac dragged Gavin forward and kissed him roughly, the blanket thumping to the ground as his hands clutched at Gavin’s waist, at his hair. Gavin stumbled against Isaac and melted at the feeling of his lips on his, of Isaac pulling him hard against him. By the time Isaac broke the kiss, Gavin was breathless with it.

“S-sorry,” Isaac whispered. “Sorry, I, um…” Gavin shivered as Isaac’s breath fanned over his face. “Y-yeah. That sounds, um, good.”

Isaac stood trembling against Gavin for a moment longer before he stepped back and grabbed the blanket up off the ground. He spread it out in the center of the grove and gently lowered himself onto his back. Gavin lowered himself down beside him and froze at Isaac’s quick intake of breath.

“Oh, fuck,” Gavin murmured. “God, I’m sorry, the cane marks, I… How did I fucking _forget,_ I…” He reached out, his fingers brushing Isaac’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We can… do something else, we don’t have do—”

“It’s okay,” Isaac grunted, adjusting his position on the ground. “It’s not too bad.”

“A-are you sure?” Gavin’s hand squeezed Isaac’s shoulder. “It’s really okay, I—”

“Hey,” Isaac said gently, and Gavin fell silent. “I love this idea. Come here.” He held out his arm for Gavin. Gavin smiled weakly and laid down beside Isaac, his head resting on Isaac’s arm. The cuts on his back itched where they pressed against the ground.

He raised his eyes to the patch of sky visible through the trees. Where only a few stars had been shining what seemed like minutes ago, they were now sprinkling the sky. Gavin drew in a deep breath and let it out.

“This is beautiful,” Isaac murmured.

Around them, the air cooled. Gavin shivered and pressed himself against Isaac’s side.

“Cold?” Isaac said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Isaac was silent for a moment. He reached up and gently dragged his knuckles against Gavin’s cheek. Isaac’s fingers were cold now, but Gavin’s skin burned. He shivered again, his eyes falling closed for a moment. He turned his head, and Isaac’s lips met his.

The kiss was soft, and sweet, and Gavin’s eyes welled with tears at it. He cradled Isaac’s face and pulled him closer.

Isaac groaned and rolled on top of Gavin, bracing himself on his elbows. Gavin sighed as their hips pressed together.

“Kinda hard for either of us to look at the stars like this,” Isaac said, and Gavin could hear a smile in his voice.

Gavin pulled Isaac’s hips forward, both hands locked tight on his belt. “I don’t want you going anywhere, though.”

“Hm.”

Gavin trembled and opened his mouth to Isaac’s kiss. The warmth of Isaac’s body on top of him staved off the cold, held it at bay as Gavin’s hands twisted in Isaac’s coat. His eyes fluttered shut as Isaac kissed his way down Gavin’s neck. He tilted his head back to give Isaac better access to his throat. His heart beat hard as heat started where Isaac’s hips pressed into his.

“Ahh,” Gavin moaned as Isaac nipped gently at his neck. “Isaac…”

“Yeah?” Isaac’s laughter rumbled through Gavin’s chest.

“I…” _I don’t want to wait until they let me back into the house before I have you._ “Please…”

Isaac froze. “Oh. Are you…? I’m sorry…” He started to push away from Gavin.

“No,” Gavin wheezed, and pulled Isaac down on top of him again. “Please, I… _want_ you…”

Isaac groaned, his head dropping onto Gavin’s shoulder. “I didn’t, um… bring anything. From the house. No condoms or… or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Gavin panted, his hands moving to Isaac’s waistband. “It doesn’t have to be like, like that.” He quickly unclasped Isaac’s belt and undid the button on his jeans. “I just…”

Isaac’s breath came heavy against Gavin’s ear, and he shuddered. “Oh,” he rasped.

“Please, Isaac, just let me…” Gavin pulled down the zipper and pushed aside his underwear to palm Isaac’s cock. Gavin flushed warm as he realized Isaac was already hard.

Isaac jolted and gasped at Gavin’s touch. _“Gavin,”_ he breathed. “Your ha- _hands_ are _cold._ ”

“Sorry,” Gavin said, chuckling weakly. He hesitated, then withdrew his hand, his face pulled into a teasing grin he knew Isaac couldn’t see in the dark. “If you wanted to,” he said, “We could always wait until we got back…”

Isaac whimpered above Gavin, propped up on his elbows. “We… we _could_ …” he said with a hint of regret. “If you’re, um, cold…”

“I’m kidding, Isaac,” Gavin said, and this time took Isaac’s cock in hand. His stomach bucked at the surprised, desperate little cry that left Isaac’s lips. “I want you right here.”

“Good,” Isaac huffed. “I w-want you, too.”

Isaac rolled a little way off of Gavin, and Gavin whimpered at the loss of his weight. Then he felt Isaac fumbling at the front of his pants. Gavin groaned and stroked Isaac, once.

_“Sh-shit,”_ Isaac gasped, his hands shaking as he undid the button and zipper on Gavin’s pants. He gently rolled his palm against Gavin’s cock, and Gavin jerked forward into the touch.

“Jesus Christ,” Gavin whispered as Isaac’s cool hand closed around his cock. Another shiver moved through Gavin and he sought out Isaac’s mouth.

Isaac moaned against Gavin’s lips, his tongue pressing gently into his mouth. Gavin cupped Isaac’s face with his free hand and pulled Isaac’s lips harder against his.

“I love you,” Isaac groaned against Gavin’s mouth. “I… I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Gavin said back, a thrill going through him with the words. “So… _so_ goddamned much.”

“Enough to save me,” Isaac whispered, and stroked Gavin once. The pleasure of it caught Gavin’s breath.

“And you saved me,” Gavin said as he grazed Isaac’s lower lip with his teeth. “So many times.”

“And now I just…” Isaac gasped as Gavin stroked him faster. “ _Oh, fuck._ Now I just want to… _be_ with you, Gavin. Oh, _Jesus_ …”

They warmed each other, holding off the cold in the heat of their bodies together, the way they moved together. Gavin sought out Isaac’s lips, pressed kisses to his mouth, his cheek, his neck. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside him, stoked by Isaac’s hands and mouth on him. Gavin whimpered as Isaac brought him closer and closer to his climax.

“F-fuck, Isaac… you’re… f-feel so good…”

“You, too,” Isaac said, and sucked the skin of Gavin’s neck. “You feel… _ahh…_ g-good, too.”

Soon, Isaac had Gavin panting with need, had Gavin’s hips thrusting forward into his hand, desperate for release.

“Isaac,” Gavin whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut against the dizzying waves of pleasure sweeping through him with each stroke of Isaac’s hand. “Oh…”

“I’m close,” Isaac whispered raggedly. “Are you—”

Gavin shuddered and came with a cry.

Isaac chuckled against Gavin’s lips and his hand stilled, Gavin’s hand still moving along his cock. Isaac’s mouth fell open and his hips bucked once, twice… He finished with a plaintive moan.

Isaac pulled Gavin close and cuddled against him, the warm post-orgasm glow pushing back the cold. Isaac tilted Gavin’s head back and kissed him deeply.

“Mmm,” Gavin groaned, pressing against Isaac’s side. “Isaac…”

“Yeah?” Isaac’s thumb stroked the scar on Gavin’s cheek.

“I…” Gavin shivered. “I just… good, that was good.”

Isaac gave a low laugh, dark with pleasure. “Cold?”

“Hm?” Gavin shivered again. “Oh. I guess I am.”

“Me, too.” Isaac pressed another kiss to Gavin’s lips, and zipped up the front of his pants. “Maybe we should head back. Get some hot tea and go to bed. I’m… exhausted, still.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, his lips warm from Isaac’s kiss. He did up his pants, too. “Yeah, that sounds… good…”

Isaac got to his feet and pulled Gavin up with him. Gavin wobbled and leaned against Isaac, his knees weak. Isaac bent to pick up the blanket and laced his fingers through Gavin’s.

“We’ll have to come back out here when it’s warmer,” Isaac said as they walked through the trees to the shore, tripping over the uneven ground until he cleared the trees. “Actually look at the stars.” He laughed.

“Hey, we did,” Gavin said, smiling. The moon lit the ground around them as they walked through the grass and back to the sand of the beach.

“Sure. For ten minutes.” There was a smile in Isaac’s voice. Isaac squeezed Gavin’s hand. He squeezed back.

They made their way back to the house, their way lit by the moon. Gavin’s chest ached as they drew closer. He prayed Tori was feeling better, now.


	23. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober begins!!!

_Rosa’s expression was cold. Everything about her was cold: the hard line of her mouth, the arms crossed in front of her chest, the way she turned away from Isaac as if he was disgusting to look at. Everything was cold, except for her eyes. Her eyes blazed with fury, and it made Isaac tremble._

_Michael limped back into the house, blood soaking through their pant leg, and it made Isaac whimper._

_Jordan was being carried between William and Lexi, and that made Isaac_ hate himself.

_“I’m sorry,” he sobbed weakly as they laid Jordan on the floor. Their skin was a blue-gray, where it wasn’t stained a sort of black-red that made Isaac’s stomach heave. The worst part, the_ worst part, _was their eyes. They were open, blank, staring sightlessly up at Isaac. Accusing. Empty._

_Dead._

_Isaac fell to his knees beside Jordan, his hand reaching out to touch them._

_Rosa grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and tore his hand away from Jordan. She dragged Isaac upright and pitched him onto his back. She stood over him and jabbed a finger at him._

_“You don’t get to touch them,” Rosa snarled._

_Isaac whined softly and pushed himself up to look at Jordan past Rosa. Rosa stepped forward and kicked him back onto his back._

_“Please,” Isaac sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m_ sorry _. I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean—”_

_“They’re dead because of you,” Rosa hissed. “You know that. We went out to fight and you were supposed to be there, to_ protect us, _and you_ weren’t. _You preferred to not take the shot. You preferred to run like the useless piece of shit you are.”_

_Isaac held out a hand in front of him, tears pouring down his face. “Rosa, no,_ please, _I just didn’t want…” Isaac crumpled into sobs. “I didn’t mean for anyone to die, I just… I didn’t want to kill anyone,_ please _…”_

_“Shut up,” Rosa growled. “This is your fucking_ job. _We’ve spent the past… the past_ seven years _taking care of you. Making sure you have everything you need. We made you part of our_ family, _Isaac. And when it came time for you to repay everything we’ve done… all we asked was this one little thing…”_

_“You said I’d have to kill people,” Isaac whispered. “Please… William,_ please, _” Isaac begged, straining to look past Rosa. She shoved him onto his back._

_“You’re the one we’ve_ trained for this, _” Rosa said viciously. “You’re the youngest. You move the best. You’re the one best suited to_ handle this, _and you_ didn’t. _” Rosa’s face was changing, morphing, flickering between her and his mother. Rosa, his mother. Rosa, his mother. Isaac blinked and scrambled back on his hands._

_“But I…” He whimpered. “I’m_ sorry, _Rosa,” he wailed. “Jordan, no… Jordan, I’m_ sorry _… Jordan, NO…”_

_“You serve a purpose in this family,” Rosa snarled. “You protect us. You use your training to be_ useful. _”_

_“Lexi… Michael,_ please _…”_

_“And you failed. You_ failed us, _Isaac. We made this plan assuming you’d have our back. And you_ failed. _”_

_“No…”_

_Rosa’s lips pulled back over her teeth. “And… I have_ no fucking use _for someone who refuses to do what they were trained to do.”_

_Isaac looked up at Rosa with terror in his eyes. “Rosa… please, I—”_

_“Get out, Isaac,” Rosa snarled at him. “_ Get out. _If you refuse to repay the things we’ve done for you… We_ raised you, _Isaac. We did more for you than that bitch mother ever did.”_

_It was his mother’s face saying it. Isaac’s brow furrowed. The smell of gin was thick in his nose._

_“No,” Isaac whimpered. “Rosa, I… I’ll do it. I’ll go on the next one with you. I won’t run. I’ll take the shot… I promise. I… Rosa, I was_ scared _…”_

_“You think I wasn’t, you fucking_ idiot? _” Rosa snapped. “We were_ all _scared. But we went._ You’re _the most trained, and you failed. You fucking_ ran _. So get your shit, Isaac.”_

_“No…”_

_“Get your shit and fucking leave. I never want to see your face again.”_

_“Rosa, please,_ no _…”_

_Rosa crouched by his side and thrust her face close to his. “I have_ no fucking use for you, _” she hissed. Isaac could feel her breath on his face. It smelled like gin._

_Rosa never drank gin._

_“Fucking useless,” Rosa said. But it wasn’t Rosa. “I have no fucking use for you, if you won’t do this_ one little thing. _” A bottle was in Rosa’s hand. Not Rosa. His mother. Sandy blonde hair and blue eyes._

_“Fucking_ idiot _,” she screamed in his face. “Is it_ so fucking hard _to bring me my_ fucking gin? _” She hurled the bottle at the wall. It bounced off. Plastic._

_“You couldn’t tell us we were out of fucking_ milk, _” the woman in front of him snarled. “How fucking hard is that? And now he’s… he’s_ dead. _” Isaac cowered back away from his mother as she descended on him, her face twisted with rage. “And if I never had you, MY HUSBAND WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!”_

_Isaac stopped trying to move away from his mother. He stopped trying to fight the words. He collapsed onto the floor, curling into a tight ball of misery, burying his face in his hands. The thing that wore his mother’s face and spoke in his mother’s voice screamed hate and bile at him. He sobbed as the words fell on him like stones._

Isaac twisted away from his mother, his heart pounding in his chest. She was grabbing him in the dark… but when had she done that? His mother never touched him at all after his father died, not even once. _This isn’t right._

Hands tightened on his wrists and he cried out, twisting in the dark, something wrapping around his legs, his chest, suffocating him.

_“No,”_ he sobbed, tears burning on his cheeks.

“Isaac,” someone said urgently, and he froze. He knew that voice.

That voice came with a rush of terror, of relief, pain and misery and joy wrapped up in it, choking him, paralyzing him. He covered his head with his arms and curled into a ball, shaking, trembling with the horror of being restrained by something wrapping around his body, drawing tighter the more he fought. Pain spiked in his back and he wailed miserably.

The lamp snapped on. Isaac flinched as the light stabbed into his eyes.

“Isaac, shh, you’re alright… _Isaac_ …” Someone pulled Isaac into their arms, and Gavin’s smell washed over him, warm and clean. Isaac scrambled out of the sheets that felt so much like restraints and clutched at Gavin. He buried his face in Gavin’s bare chest and heaved a broken sob.

“Shh,” Gavin whispered, trailing his fingers gently over the back of Isaac’s arm, missing the healing cuts. “It was a nightmare. Isaac…” A hand guided his face up and he met Gavin’s eyes, soft and concerned. “Isaac, it’s okay…”

_“N-no,”_ Isaac sobbed, his breath hitching in his chest. “No, no, no, _no_ …” He squeezed his eyes shut. They flew open again as Rosa’s face flashed across his vision.

“It’s alright, Isaac,” Gavin said gently, his voice betraying just a hint of strain. “You’re safe.” Gavin carded his fingers through Isaac’s hair, then stiffened. “Oh, shit. Do you need me to…? I can go, if you—”

_“No,”_ Isaac whimpered desperately, clawing at Gavin’s back, clutching at his arms when Gavin let out a hiss through his teeth. “Please, please don’t go, please, please, _please_ …” His voice broke as he pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” Gavin said, his voice tight with worry now. “Isaac… was it… F-Fort Meyers? Or…”

“No,” Isaac whimpered, his arms tightening around Gavin’s chest. “No, it… my… my first fam— first team,” he said, misery clawing at his chest. “And my… my mom. They… um…” Isaac swallowed painfully. “Well, you… you know.”

Gavin’s hand went to the back of Isaac’s neck. “I, um… I… yeah. A little bit, yeah.”

“And they… she…” Isaac pushed down a sob and pressed his mouth against Gavin’s shoulder. “I… J-Jordan died because of, of _me._ Because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill… couldn’t take the fucking _shot_ …” He gasped for breath. “And they died. Because I’m a coward, because I’m a fucking _coward_ …”

“No, you’re not,” Gavin said through his teeth. “You’re not a coward. You… you’re _not._ ”

“But I couldn’t kill the guard,” Isaac moaned. “I couldn’t fucking… _do_ it, and J-Jordan, di-ied, and I… It’s _my fault_ …”

“Isaac, _no_ —”

“And Rosa, she, she kicked me out and… she said I… I was… _useless_ and she didn’t want me if I didn’t do what I was… _made_ for.”

Gavin sucked in a breath.

“She wouldn’t even let me… _touch_ Jordan,” Isaac sobbed. “Wouldn’t let me say good, _goodbye._ ” Isaac kicked the sheets off of him and dragged himself closer to Gavin, their legs tangling together. Gavin squeezed him tighter.

“Isaac, I’m—”

“And… she said… she sounded just like my mom, in the dream,” Isaac said, his voice dropping to an agonized whisper. “I couldn’t do this… _one thing,_ and now my father is dead, and it’s _my fault_ …”

“But it’s not—”

“I should have done it.” Isaac’s nose was running and he swiped at it with the back of his hand. “I should have killed him. And maybe if I had, maybe if I…” He ground his teeth together. “Maybe if I did my fucking _job,_ I’d still be with them. Maybe if I didn’t… _fail_ them…” Isaac buried his face into Gavin’s neck, as if he could hide from all his shame. “Then I… maybe I’d still be with them. Maybe they’d, um, still want me, and I could protect them, and they’d…”

_Maybe they’d love me eventually, if I did it right._

Hate swept through him, singeing every inch of skin. Hate for himself. Hate so deep he couldn’t pry it out, no matter how deep he cut.

“If I… wasn’t so fucking _stupid_ … my dad might—”

“Isaac, _stop,_ ” Gavin whimpered, and pressed a frantic kiss into his sweaty hair. Isaac hadn’t realized he was soaked with sweat until now. “Stop, please, don’t say that. _None_ of it was your fault. You were a _kid._ You forgot to tell your parents you were out of damned _milk._ Do you know what I was doing at twelve?”

Isaac swallowed thickly. “N-no?”

Gavin shuddered, and suddenly he was shivering against Isaac like he was freezing to death. “By the time I was twelve… I’d already killed someone.”

Isaac’s eyes fell closed and tears ran down his face.

“So stop… I can’t… I can’t take it. Can’t… _listen_ to you say that. It was a fucking mistake. It was a stupid fucking mistake, it was a _normal mistake_ that adults do, and kids do, Isaac, it… it was just some fucking _milk._ ” Gavin buried his face in Isaac’s hair. “That driver killed your dad. Not you. You had nothing to do with it. That could have happened on his way home from work, or on his way to…” Gavin’s throat bobbed. “Or on his way to the lake with you…” Gavin pulled Isaac closer. “That wasn’t your fucking fault. Okay? I _know_ what it is to kill someone innocent. And you didn’t do it.”

“But I—”

“And neither was Jordan’s death your fault. Do you understand? You were so fucking young, Isaac. It’s not, um… not _normal_ to kill someone. It’s… it’s okay that you didn’t.”

“I was twenty-one,” Isaac whimpered. “And it’s what I… was _trained_ for. They… they, um… made me into that. They taught me everything. They took, _took me to other teams_ so they could have me trained in weapons, jiu jitsu, karate, tactical movement and marksmanship and how to fucking make it out of something _alive_ and I had all that training and I couldn’t fucking do my fucking _job_ and I had _seven years_ to get ready and they had me do some little practice missions and that was fine and then when it was real I failed I failed I _failed_ …” Isaac dragged in a shuddering gasp.

There wasn’t enough air in the room. He pulled away from Gavin’s neck, his chest heaving with great, racking sobs.

“I, I failed, I failed, I, I f-failed, I—”

“Isaac, _stop_ …”

“I, I, fai— I, can’t, bre-eathe, I, I, oh, f-fuck, I c-can’t—”

“Fuck. _Fuck._ Isaac, I… I don’t know how to—”

Isaac’s chest ached with every breath. “P-please, oh, _fuck_ …” He choked and clutched at Gavin’s arm. “Ga-avin, h— I, can’t, please…”

“No, no, no, no, shit, Isaac…”

The room was spinning around him. His head throbbed with every heartbeat. “Oh, g-god, I, _please_ …”

“Okay, okay, what does Gray do…? Oh!” Gavin cupped Isaac’s face and pulled it up until Isaac could see his eyes. “Look at me, Isaac. Look. Okay? We’re gonna breathe together, you and me. We’re gonna do it.”

Isaac felt like he was dragging in air through a straw. “Ca-an’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, _shit_ …”

“Yes, you can.” Gavin’s voice was shaking. “It works when Gray does it, right? You can. Breathe in…”

Isaac’s hands cramped as he tried to keep his hold on Gavin. He ground out a whimper and curled his hands into fists. It just made the pain worse. He wailed miserably and curled into himself.

“Breathe, Isaac.”

“But my mom—”

“ _Fuck_ your mom. I… shit, Isaac, I didn’t… that was shitty of me to say. I’m sorry.”

“She… she was so _angry_ …”

“And that wasn’t your fault.”

“It _was!_ I could have… been there for her, could have _helped_ her, she… she drank because dad was gone, but I was sort of gone, too… I spent so much time in my room, I didn’t… I used to play with my friends and go to my neighbor’s house for homeschooling sometimes, the schools weren’t safe even then…”

“Isaac—”

“I could have made her feel _better_ …” Isaac trailed off in a rasping whisper.

“Isaac… I… I read… Gray said it’s not… kids’ _jobs_ to take care of their parents. Okay? She should have been the one…” Gavin’s voice wavered on the edge of a sob. “…taking care of _you._ ”

“But she couldn’t because she was drunk. I could have… _helped_ …”

Gavin took a steadying breath. “Isaac… do you hear how fucked up that is?”

Deep down in Isaac’s soul, where all his desperate emptiness lived… he knew how wrong it was. He knew there should have been someone there to care for him. Keep him safe. Love him.

Every other part of his being cried out in horror, lashed him viciously for daring to want that. Daring to think he _deserved_ it.

If he eventually failed everyone around him, even when their lives depended on him, what did that make him? Even when the odds were against him, that didn’t _matter._ He’d been trained to fight, trained to protect, and the people he protected didn’t care if he was scared or hurt or overwhelmed. He had a job to do, and he failed, he failed, he failed, he couldn’t bring his father back and he couldn’t make his mother feel better, and he couldn’t protect Jordan and he couldn’t kill and he couldn’t _die_ and he couldn’t be anything but a reminder to everyone he loved of how much he’d failed, he’d _failed_ …

Failed Sam. Failed Vera. Failed Ellis. Failed Finn. Failed Gray. Failed Tori. Failed Edrissa. Failed _Gavin._

_Why am I alive?_

“—aac. Isaac, stop. Breathe, breathe, _please_ …”

Someone was sobbing, someone was clawing at Gavin’s back and making him _hurt,_ but it wasn’t Isaac.

“Oh, no…”

Someone was a mess of pain and blood and shame, someone was a walking disaster with nothing but bodies in his wake, someone was falling apart because when it mattered, he didn’t – _couldn’t_ – defend his family.

“…sh-should I get Gray? I… Isaac, I don’t know what to do…”

Someone was an empty shell, gutted by nothing but his own failures. Someone was a liability. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to have a family if he couldn’t do his _fucking job._

Three knocks at the door. Not for him. He wasn’t there anymore.


	24. Psych 101/Crying

_“Shit.”_

The person in Isaac’s arms wormed his way out of his grasp. Isaac wailed brokenly and curled into a tight ball.

The blankets were pulled up over his naked body, and he lay still and senseless under them. There was a rummaging sound, thumps as if someone was stumbling around the room, a rustle of fabric.

A door opened. Someone walked in, but Isaac was alone.

“What happened?”

“G-Gray, I… He had a nightmare. It was… really, really bad. He woke up crying and I… tried to calm him down, I don’t know how to _do_ this, I tried to do what you do with the breathing but he couldn’t breathe and it didn’t _help_ …”

“Gavin, could… could it be possible that you being here…? Do you think it might be better if…?”

“I don’t _know._ He said it was about his mother, and… and Rosa, he said, she’s the one who kicked him out…”

“Ah. That’s… something he’s never really talked about with us before.”

“Why is it coming up _now?_ Why isn’t he… I mean, shouldn’t he be having nightmares about—”

“He’s safe now. When the brain senses that the danger has passed, it begins to release its trauma. It’s a very normal reaction.”

“But he’s… it’s _bad,_ Gray…”

“I understand. Would you like to stay here? Or do you need some time to yourself?”

“No. No. I want to stay here. I want to… to help… I want to learn how to do this _right_.”

“I have no doubt you were doing the right thing, Gavin. There’s no perfect way to handle this.”

Creaks on the floor. Then a dip on the bed where someone sat down. Isaac covered his head with his arms. Wishing he could disappear.

“Oh, um… d-don’t, don’t pull the blanket back. He’s… um… naked under, under there.”

A pause.

“I had no intention to, Gavin, but I appreciate the warning just the same.”

A gentle hand landed on Isaac’s shoulder. “Isaac?”

Isaac reached for the muscles that controlled his lips and tongue. He couldn’t quite find them.

“Isaac? Can you talk to me?”

Maybe if he was there, he could. But he couldn’t find his body.

“Isaac… nod your head if you can hear me.”

He felt around for those muscles. That, he could do.

“Good. Isaac, are you here right now? Or… somewhere else?”

_Where is here?_

_I think I’m here._

“Huuumn.” He felt like he was speaking past a mouthful of clay.

“Hm. Does that mean you’re here in this room with me? Up north? Nod if that’s true.”

He nodded. His body felt light, like it was floating.

“Alright. Gavin said you had a nightmare. Can you realize that it’s not real, and you’re here right now?”

_Those deaths were real. Those deaths are on me._

Isaac sobbed and turned his face against the mattress.

“Shh.” Fingers moved gently through his hair. It felt like he was being touched through a blanket over his head, but he could see light. The room. “Can you come back to your body now?”

Isaac lay frozen, suspended. _Maybe._

“Isaac take some deep breaths.”

_Where are the muscles for that?_

_Found them._

His chest moved, expanded. Distantly, he felt pain. Leaned into it. Leaned into the punishment.

“Good. Let it out.”

The air rushed out of him with a groan.

“Gavin, come here. Come sit with him. Isaac, breathe in, hold… Unless he doesn’t want to be touched – let it out, Isaac, there you go – having a hand on him can be very grounding. Isaac, breathe in… I’m sorry, I should have asked if I could touch you. Is that alright?”

Isaac nodded weakly.

“Alright. Can Gavin touch you?”

“P-pluuuh.”

“…please? Please yes, or please no?”

“Mmmn.”

“He can’t answer, so it’s a no for now. Just be there for him. Try not to get overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry, I just… got scared…”

“It’s alright. It’s hard to watch someone you love hurt like this. Isaac, keep taking those big, deep breaths. There you go.”

“But it’s so… easy. For you.”

“Let it out. No, it’s not. It’s hard, and it hurts. Every time.”

“Then how—”

“I have the benefit of decades of experience, Gavin. _And_ professional training. Just remember, you don’t have to do it perfectly. Good. Keep breathing, Isaac.”

“But I messed it up—”

“You didn’t. And even if you do, that’s alright. He’ll forgive you. If you want to do this for the others, they’ll forgive you when you mess up, too. And he… I promise you, he will forgive you for your mistakes. He loves you, Gavin.”

Silence.

“Isaac, you’re doing so well. Can you talk to me?”

“Um…” He could. Everything came crashing down again.

“Isaac—”

He shuddered and heaved a sob against the mattress. “M-my, fault it’s, my, my fault, I can’t…”

“Shh. It’s not. Keep breathing. Just keep breathing. It’s alright.”

“M-mom, she, she, I… just wanted…” The core of him shattered under the weight of his agony. He shivered and convulsed against the pain. “I just wanted her to _hold me!_ ”

“I know,” Gray said. Their hand found his and squeezed. “I know.”

“And she… _didn’t!_ I… a-asked her to, and she just… she didn’t want to touch me, didn’t want to _look_ at me. I just… I can’t…”

“You deserved that comfort, Isaac. I’m so sorry she didn’t give it.”

“I… my dad was gone and my mom… I didn’t know how to… to make it better, I just…” His throat closed around a sob. “I just, just wanted her to _hold me!_ ”

“That sounds so painful, Isaac. That sounds… d-devastating.”

“I was, um…” Isaac choked and coughed hard, the sheets wet with tears and everything else that was dripping off his face. “I was just…” His voice tightened to a whisper. “I was _alone._ ”

“I know you were,” Gray said, their voice pitched low, but still trembling.

“I just wanted her to love me again.” Isaac shuddered, the feeling coming back to his hands. His body ached like he’d been beaten.

“Isaac… is that something you would want now? Just to be near us, for us to just sit with you? For us to hold you?”

Isaac whimpered and covered his face with his hand. “I… y-yes. Please…?”

“Alright. Let’s get some, ah, pants on first.”

“Where’s Gavin?”

“Right here, Isaac.” A different hand, running down the inside of his forearm. Gray’s hand withdrew, and Gavin’s hand replaced it to lace his fingers through Isaac’s.

Isaac peeled his eyes open. He hadn’t even realized they were closed.

Gavin’s face swam above him, with Gray’s beside it. Gavin looked ready to burst into tears. He was clothed, now. Gray’s face was pinched where their calm mask couldn’t cover their pain.

“P-pants,” Isaac croaked. “Sure. Um. Pants.” He shivered, his scars suddenly burning with his shame. “And a shirt.” He pulled the blanket higher over his shoulder.

“I’ll give you some privacy for that,” Gray said quietly, and stood up with a groan, their joints creaking. “Ugh. I’ll be right out here when you’re, ah, ready.”

“Thanks,” Isaac said, scrubbing his face with his hand. The door clicked closed behind Gray.

Isaac cast his gaze around the room and it settled on Gavin, sitting on the bed, his hand still clasped with Isaac’s. Gavin was pale, his lips trembling, his eyes wide and filling with tears as Isaac watched.

“S-sorry,” Isaac said darkly.

Gavin huffed out a breath. “Don’t… please don’t.”

Isaac fell silent. Gavin gently pulled his hand away and stood from the bed. The mattress squeaked as he did.

“Let me get you the, uh…” Gavin laughed once, painfully. “…the sweats and shirt I think you were supposed to be wearing.”

Isaac sat up and groaned. He reached for a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blew his nose. Then he used another to wipe his eyes. The used tissues went into the trash can in the corner.

“Here.” Gavin held out the pants and shirt for Isaac to put on.

The shirt went on first, covering Isaac’s scars. Gavin chewed his lip as Isaac pulled the shirt down around his waist. Then he slid the pants on, standing briefly to pull them up before collapsing back onto the bed. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely push himself back against the headboard. He pulled his knees in tight to his chest.

Gavin went to the door and gestured to Gray to come in. As Gray walked back in, they briefly clasped Gavin’s shoulder and squeezed. Gavin shivered as he closed the door behind them.

Gray sat down next to Isaac, groaning as they leaned back against the headboard. “Pass me that pillow,” they said heavily, just a hint of a laugh in their voice. “I’m too old to be sitting without lumbar support.”

Isaac numbly passed Gray his pillow and watched as they tucked it behind their back. “That’s better,” they croaked. “But damn if these beds aren’t ideal for those of us with back pain.”

“They’re alright,” Isaac said, his voice flat.

Gray paused, their mouth in a hard line. “Hm. They’re not the worst,” they conceded softly. They gestured to Gavin. “Have a seat. On his other side.”

Gavin walked around the foot of the bed, his eyes flicking between Isaac and Gray like he’d be chased from the room. He sat down beside Isaac, far enough away that their legs didn’t touch.

Gray put an arm around Isaac’s shoulders and pulled him tight against their side. After a moment, Isaac blinked tears out of his eyes and laid his head on Gray’s shoulder.

“There you go,” Gray said softly. “Just… keep breathing, Isaac. You’re safe. You’re north. You’re safe.”

Isaac’s lips trembled and he whimpered, the words feeling like a physical blow. “But my… _mom,_ and Jordan, Rosa…”

Gray let out a slow breath between their lips. “I… I’m so sorry they hurt you like that. I’m so sorry that you… weren’t protected… the way you should have been.”

Gavin sat silent beside Isaac. Isaac’s skin felt ice-cold, drawn to Gavin’s warmth.

The idea of reaching out across the abyss of the two inches between them was more terrifying than the nightmare.

“You were dealt… frankly, you were dealt a shit deal, Isaac,” Gray said, their voice pitched low. “It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _right._ I wish I…” Isaac watched Gray’s free hand curl into a fist where it sat in their lap. They pulled Isaac closer and gently kissed his forehead. “I wish I could have done something about it.”

“I wish I could have done a lot of things,” Isaac whispered. Gray fell silent.

They sat there together for a moment, the loudest sound in the room the sound of Isaac’s pulse pounding in his head, beating wild and fast at first, then slower, slower. He found his breathing matching Gray’s, slow and even. The tension in him slowly eased. The pain in his chest faded until it was only the ache of each breath to his bruised ribs.

He ached for Gavin to be close to him, too.

“G-Gavin?” he whispered and his stomach lurched.

A sniffle. “Yeah?”

“Um…” Isaac swallowed the lump in this throat, swallowed the terror, forced it down to where it could be crushed and dealt with. “I want you, um… closer.”

Gavin let out a breath all at once and moved closer so his side pressed against Isaac’s. He gently kissed Isaac’s shoulder, his cheek, his temple. His hand laced with Isaac’s again.

They both warmed him, Gavin and Gray, body heat and concern finding their way beneath Isaac’s skin. It slowed his heart rate further. Steadied it. He pulled in a deep breath.

“Good, Isaac,” Gray murmured, and rubbed his shoulder. Gavin moved his thumb in slow circles against Isaac’s hand.

Deeper and deeper, Isaac pulled air into his lungs, blew it out through his lips, picturing the darkness inside him flying out like bits of ash from a fire.

He was still burning, on the inside.

“Why this?” Isaac croaked, his throat sore from crying.

Gray leaned away slightly, their arm never loosening on his shoulders. It pressed against some cane marks, but Isaac didn’t care. “Why not this?” Gray said, sounding almost… surprised.

Isaac swallowed, and his mouth tasted dry as chalk. “I mean… if I’m going to, to freak out about something, why not, um… the…” Gavin’s hand seemed to grow colder in his. “Why not Fort Meyers? Or Sam getting shot? Or… fuck, why not have nightmares about, about…” He trembled and fell silent.

_Having nightmares about Gavin torturing me makes more fucking sense than_ this _._

Isaac’s hand tightened in Gavin’s, and he took Gavin’s other hand in his.

Gray slowly pulled in a breath. “Why _not_ this?” they said evenly. “You think they aren’t related?”

Isaac huffed out a bitter laugh. “They’re not related at all, Gray,” he said, shame fluttering in his stomach.

“Hm.” Gray lay their head back against the wall. “If I may, Isaac,” they said gently, “Your history of trauma and abuse falls… rather nicely into place with the trauma of watching your family tortured in front of you.”

Gavin flinched. Isaac nosed against Gavin’s hair and kissed him on the forehead.

“The brain doesn’t decide to react to one thing immediately after it happens. It’s not… _logical,_ the way we think of it. But… even if we can’t find a reason that makes sense to us, fact is your brain is bringing this up for a reason. It’s something that still needs to be processed.”

Bitterness rankled in Isaac. “How am I supposed to _process_ something like that?” he snapped.

“With time,” Gray said gently. “And support from your family, who loves you.”

Isaac bit down on his tongue to hold in his retort. _You wouldn’t love me if you knew what I was._

Gray laughed once, sadly. “Isaac, I’ve known you for five years. I’ve lived, run, and fought beside you for that entire time. You think I can’t tell when you think I’m bullshitting you?”

He couldn’t hide. He couldn’t fucking _hide,_ he couldn’t hide what he was.

“No,” he said, the word grinding its way out of him.

“Good,” Gray said with a nod, and laid their head back again. They were silent for a long time.

“Fact is, Isaac,” Gray said, startling Isaac out of a sleep that had very nearly claimed him, “I can’t make the decision for you. To heal, I mean. You have to make it, or not at all. But…” He felt Gray nudge Gavin with the hand resting on Isaac’s shoulder. “You’re surrounded by people you mean the world to, and would die for you, just like you would for them. Let us see you every once in a while. Even when it hurts. Even when you think it’ll drive us away.”

“What if it’s nothing but hurt?” Isaac whispered, his throat too tight to speak.

Deep inhale, deep exhale. Gray wet their lips. “It won’t be all hurt forever,” they said, finally. “There’s so much more to you than hurt, Isaac.”

Gavin leaned in closer, resting his chin against Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac turned his head and kissed Gavin’s forehead, his hair, the scar across the bridge of his nose. Gavin relaxed against Isaac.

“We’re here, Isaac,” Gray said gently. “Always. We’re a family, and we’re here.”

“For you, Isaac,” Gavin breathed. “We’re here for _you._ ”

Tears rolled down Isaac’s cheeks. “I…” It felt like a concession, like giving up the high ground. Walking willingly out of concealment. “I know,” he said, painfully.

“Hm.” Gray’s free hand rubbed up and down Isaac’s shin. Gavin collapsed against his side, his body relaxing more and more until he began to breathe deep and heavy, his head lolling on Isaac’s shoulder.

The third time Isaac’s head bobbed forward, Gray gently pushed themself up off the bed and stood, groaning softly as they straightened. Isaac’s eyes opened and he blearily looked around.

“Will you be alright?” Gray whispered, the dark circles under their eyes suddenly looking so much deeper. _I wonder how much they’ve slept in the past few days with us being here?_

“Um, y-yeah,” Isaac said thickly. He glanced at Gavin where he lay slumped against him, asleep.

“Alright. I’ll go back to bed, if you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, looking around, dazed. “Yeah, um. Sleep.”

“Okay. Good.” Gray leaned towards the nightstand. “Can I get the lamp?”

“Yeah,” Isaac sighed, already maneuvering so he could lay down. Gavin’s head jerked up off of Isaac’s shoulder, and he relaxed against a moment later.

“Mmn,” Gavin mumbled, and crumpled into a heap on vaguely his side of the bed.

“Good night, Isaac,” Gray croaked as they snapped the lamp off. The floor creaked under their feet as they walked out of the bedroom. The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Isaac stretched out on the bed, his eyes swollen and red, his throat raw, his face stained with dried tears. He rolled closer to Gavin. Gavin immediately pulled him tight into his embrace. Isaac was asleep within minutes.


	25. Enemy to Caretaker

Isaac stirred, and his body ached like he was hung over. He groaned and rolled onto his back. He gritted his teeth against the dull burn of the cane marks under his shirt. The ceiling above him was lost in the darkness of the room. He could tell from the greying light seeping around the curtain that it was still early, not far past dawn.

His mouth was dry and sticky, and his throat burned. His eyes felt puffy and swollen. Nausea drifted vaguely through his stomach. And creeping on the edge of his consciousness was a shadow, the memory of a touch, a vague whisp of oblivion that threatened to drag him under.

_I told them. Gavin and Gray. I told them last night about Jordan. They know I killed Jordan._

A tear ran from the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” Gavin rasped beside him. Isaac swallowed the burning in his throat and turned his head to face him.

Even in the dark, Isaac could feel the pressure of Gavin’s gaze on him. It moved over his face like a caress. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

The mattress shifted as Gavin rolled onto his side, drawing close enough to Isaac that he could feel the heat coming off his skin. “You alright?” Gavin whispered.

Isaac let out a trembling breath through his lips. “Y-yeah.”

There was a pause. “Isaac…”

Isaac’s eyes squeezed shut, and another tear rolled down his face. “I-I…” His throat tightened. His fingers twisted into the hem of the shirt he was still wearing. “I d-didn’t mean to, um… t-tell you.”

Gavin stopped breathing beside him. “Didn’t mean to tell me… what?”

Isaac shook his head, biting down hard on his lips. He opened his mouth and the words burned on his tongue. “I didn’t… mean for you to know how… how deep it goes.”

A deep breath, beside him. “Oh.”

“I didn’t… I’m supposed to—”

“—heal. You’re supposed to heal, Isaac.”

_What if I can’t?_

“I…” Isaac cleared his throat. “I don’t know how.”

“You just did a little, last night,” Gavin said. “Can I… can I touch you?”

Isaac didn’t answer. He just rolled to his side and clutched Gavin against him. It felt so good to wind his fingers around Gavin’s shirt, pull him close, match his shivering breaths to his. He felt Gavin’s lips brush gently against his forehead. Gavin wrapped his arms around him and held him so gently it brought more tears to his eyes.

He didn’t shed them, though. He felt wrung-out, like he’d cried out all the tears he had. He felt scraped hollow inside, scourged, all the shattered pieces of him torn out and leaving no dark corner for the shame to hide. He felt empty.

He felt _light._

“What are you thinking right now?” Gavin murmured against his forehead.

Isaac chewed his lip. “I was thinking, I feel like…” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I was thinking I feel like that was… the last of it. Or… the worst of it, I guess.”

“The worst of…?” Gavin adjusted his embrace around Isaac. It wasn’t so painful to be held, today.

“The… the bad stuff. That’s the worst of it. Jordan, and… and my mom.”

“Oh.” Slowly, Gavin’s hand moved up Isaac’s back, his touch feather-light against the mostly healed cane marks, sliding up the back of Isaac’s neck. Gently, Gavin cradled the back of Isaac’s head and guided it forward to rest in the hollow of Gavin’s throat. “I’m really… _really_ glad you told me.”

“But _why?_ ” Isaac ground out. “What does it _matter_ that you know? It doesn’t… fix it. Nothing’s changed.”

“A lot has changed,” Gavin said gently.

“You already knew all that,” Isaac whispered. He huddled closer to Gavin and pressed his mouth against his neck. “I told you all of it before.”

“That was… different.” There was something in Gavin’s voice that prickled in Isaac’s stomach. “That… was… that was torture, Isaac.”

Isaac’s eyes slid shut.

Even though he was in bed with Gavin, _safe,_ the cool morning air held off by the blanket over him and the shirt and pants he still had on, and by Gavin’s warmth against him, he shivered. He tried to push the memories away, of being tied down to the table in Gavin’s basement, blindfolded, Gavin’s gun against his head as Gavin asked him – _interrogated_ him – about his family. The people he loved.

_He was trying to figure it out, even then._

He felt the cold press of the barrel of the gun against his head. He flinched.

“Whoa,” Gavin murmured, his arms tightening for a moment before he completely pulled away. “Isaac, do… you need to… do I need to leave?”

Isaac didn’t know. He couldn’t… _see,_ couldn’t _see_ where he was. It was dark, and cold, and his body _hurt_ and his throat was tight and his wrists ached with the healing tears Finn had stitched up…

Finn…

Isaac broke. He was trapped, couldn’t escape the chains and handcuffs, the beatings, listening to Sam scream over and over and _over_ as they were hurt. And there was someone in bed with him, someone who smelled just like Gavin, the one who had pinned Isaac down and tied him and beat him and held a gun to his head as he spilled every secret he had…

“G-Gavin…” Isaac said, his voice wobbling and breaking. “L-light, need the light on, _now,_ don’t… kn-know where I, Gavin… _please_ …”

Gavin threw the covers back and stumbled out of the bed, his bare feet thumping on the wood floor. “Shit. Light. It’s… here, Isaac…”

The light came on, and relief hit Isaac like a thunderclap.

He was in Gavin’s room up north. The wood dresser stood against the wall, the deep purple curtains covering the window, standing out against the white painted walls. The room looked warm, and safe, and Isaac wasn’t in Gavin’s basement, he _wasn’t,_ even though he hurt and his wrists were torn and his back was still healing from being laid open by the cane, by _Gavin’s_ hand, and the cuts on his arms itched, mostly healed now…

And Gavin stood frozen by the door, his hand reaching unconsciously towards the handle, the other out and at his side, empty. His eyes were wide and fixed on Isaac.

“Isaac,” Gavin said softly, trembling, “Do you need me to leave? I can… give you a minute, or… leave for a while… I can go, just tell me…”

“No,” Isaac rasped as he pushed himself upright and leaned against the headboard. Familiar pain spiked in his back. The room wobbled around him. “No. Please don’t… don’t go. Please stay.”

Gavin dropped his hand. “Okay…” He took a hesitant step away from the door, towards the bed. Then another. “Just… let me know if…”

“Yeah.” Isaac pulled his knees up towards his chest and pulled the blanket up, untucking it from the foot of the bed and wrapping it around him.

Gavin sat next to him on the bed. “I… do you want to be touched, or…?”

Isaac thought his skin might crawl off his bones if anyone touched him.

Especially Gavin.

_Not his fault._

_It was then, though._

Isaac shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don’t,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Gavin said quickly. “That’s fine. That’s totally okay. I can… just sit over here. I don’t have to do anything… to you.”

His eyes still closed, Isaac nodded again. He drew in a slow breath, then another, pulling the air deep into his lungs before slowly pushing it back out. In, out. In, out. He opened his eyes. Gavin was staring at him with concern so deep it seemed to border on terror.

Isaac swallowed the sandpaper-feeling in his throat. “I’m good,” he croaked.

Gavin’s eyebrows pulled together harder. “Are you… are you sure? It’s okay if you… um… need a moment.”

“I need _you,_ ” Isaac murmured, squeezing his arms tight around himself. “Just… not, um, touching me right now.”

“Okay,” Gavin breathed, nodding. “That’s okay. That’s good. I can do that.”

Isaac pressed his mouth against his knees and huffed out another breath. The terror in him was falling, trickling away from his mind like icy water down a slope. He shivered and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

“Um… Isaac…” Gavin bit his lip.

Isaac shrugged weakly. “Yeah?”

“Um…” Gavin twisted his hands together. “I… I don’t know if… if this is a bad time, please tell me, but… you said, um…” He cleared his throat. “You said… a… a _while_ ago…” Gavin’s voice was heavy with implication. “…that your family, um… told you to fight, or leave. And you left.”

Isaac’s eyes slammed shut. He knew it. He carried that memory in him, the memory that stabbed through him with the feeling of the cold barrel of the gun against his head, the burn of rope around his wrists, Gavin’s voice just above him in the darkness behind the blindfold…

“Yeah,” he croaked. He blinked his eyes open.

“And, um…” Gavin looked at Isaac with dull despair on his face. “That n-nightmare of, of R— of your family leaving you, um… is that… how it actually went?”

Isaac gulped, and it was horribly loud in the room.

“Um. Y-yeah.”

He had no idea what had possessed him to lie to Gavin in that moment all those months ago, when he’d been tied down to the table as Gavin demanded at gunpoint to know about Isaac’s family. He’d had no reason to.

_“They told me… there was no place for me if I couldn’t… do what was necessary. They told me to choose. Fight or leave.”_

_“And you left.”_

_“Yes.”_

He’d had no reason at all. None other than in that moment, completely helpless with a bullet in the chamber waiting to tear through his brain – _no, it was a blank, and he pointed the gun away at the last moment_ – he hadn’t been able to accept it even then. Even when he was a split-second away from dying alone in Gavin’s basement, beaten and cut up and _pathetic,_ he couldn’t face the fucking truth.

_They left me because I couldn’t kill the guy who killed Jordan after I ran._

He squeezed his eyes shut as the moment gripped him.

_Air burned in his lungs, his feet pounding on concrete as he rounded the side of the building. The antenna stretched into the dark sky above him, his first real mission with the family: destroy it. Stop the interception of civilian radio signals. Get out. Do it all over again in the next area._

_Austere buildings, the remaining structures of the Defense Corps base the antenna had been built on. Easy to defend. Hard to destroy._

_“Go big or go home,” Rosa always said. This was the biggest mission Isaac could imagine._

_The others’ footsteps echoed behind him. They followed as Isaac cleared the path. He knew his job; it had been trained into him, ground into him, every single day since his family saved him. Protect the others. Eliminate the threat. Take the bullet._

_And that was…_ right. _They saved his life. He was happy to give it back._

_Sweat prickled on his back, under his vest… His heart beat, almost deafening in his ears… His breath fogged in the cool air…_

Isaac braced. He knew what came next, what always came no matter how many times he played this moment in his mind. He couldn’t change it, no matter what he did. He couldn’t stand his ground. He couldn’t do the _right thing_.

_Turn the corner. There was a guard there, shocked. Didn’t know Isaac was coming. Reached for his gun. Isaac raised his. Finger tightened on the trigger._

_He can’t._

_He can’t._

_No matter what he does, no matter that Jordan’s life depended on it, no matter that this was what he’d been_ trained _for for_ seven years _… He saw a human being in front of him, living, breathing, with wide eyes and hands shaking with adrenaline as he pulled out his gun and pointed at Isaac…_

_And he froze._

_It wasn’t a target. It wasn’t a drill. It wasn’t fucking practice._

_It was real. Isaac couldn’t pull the trigger._

If I don’t shoot, he’s going to kill me.

_So he ran. He turned and fucking ran._

_The others looked at him in surprise and terror as he tore away from his mission. He can’t stop. If he stops he’s going to be_ shot _and he can’t do this, he can’t fucking_ do _this, he’s scared and he didn’t want this and he thought he could do it but he can’t, he_ can’t, _because he’s weak, so fucking weak and the others—_

_The others—_

_Isaac heard the first shot behind him, and the second. Then the third._

_They screamed at him later that the third, from William, is what killed the guard. The first, from the guard, went wide._

_It’s the second shot that killed Jordan. The bullet killed them, but Isaac is the reason they’re dead._

“I-Isaac…”

Isaac started, his eyes flying open. Gavin had his hand halfway out to him, his fingers shaking. Isaac flinched back against the headboard.

Gavin jerked his hand back. “I’m sorry, I… You l-looked… lost.”

Isaac shook his head to clear it, then again. His throat worked as he swallowed bitter shame. “I, um, was.”

“Oh.” Gavin wrapped his arms around his chest. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

“Stop,” Isaac snapped. “Just… stop.”

Gavin’s mouth closed. Isaac sagged against the headboard. He buried his face in his hands.

“I… I’m sorry…” came Gavin’s tentative voice, hurt and confused – and it wasn’t his fucking _fault_ …

“Please don’t,” Isaac whimpered, dragging his hands through his hair and pulling until it hurt. “Don’t… this isn’t, um, you, you aren’t doing this, you’re just… you’re fine. Please don’t apologize.”

The silence in the room crushed Isaac under its weight. After a moment he lifted his head.

Gavin stared at the bare sheet, pain and confusion and fear all flattened by one thing: guilt.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac whispered.

“’s okay,” Gavin said softly. “We knew it would be hard. We knew this would, um… might happen.”

Isaac huffed out a laugh that nearly twisted into a sob. “I’ll be honest… I wasn’t expecting it to be this hard.”

Gavin bit his lip and picked at a loose thread on the sheet. “Me… me neither.”

Isaac’s stomach fluttered. A trickle of fear moved down the back of his neck, something cold that gripped him, that said _please, please don’t leave me…_ “Um… I, uh… I want to keep trying, though.” He held his breath and waited for Gavin’s answer.

After a moment, Gavin raised his gaze and met Isaac’s eyes. Pain tightened in his face, like he was trying to force down hope. “Me, too,” he murmured.


	26. Branding

Finn reached over to the table beside the couch and took another sip of their tea. It had a strong, spicy, almost bitter flavor, swirling through the warmth of the cinnamon and cloves mixed in. _Chicory,_ Gray called it, although Finn had never had it before. Apparently it grew pretty well up where it was colder, and with it so difficult to get coffee…

It was getting easier every day, though. Shipments of coffee, flour, and vegetables were arriving north every day, pulled off of syndicate supply lines with almost no resistance.

Shipments of people, too. People were coming north, lone people and families and groups. Gray had asked the family yesterday if they’d be willing to drive south to Crayton sometimes and help Daniel Schiester process the refugees as they came through. Finn was happy to do it. They’d be _happy_ to.

_As soon as I take a fucking break._

The mug sat forgotten in Finn’s hand until they took another distracted sip. Their eyes focused as they turned to set it down on the side table—

The nearly jumped as they realized Edrissa was standing, perfectly silent, beside the table. Ellis was looking at her with a smile.

“Do you— Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Edrissa said, and Finn distractedly waved the apology away. Edrissa’s eyes flicked from the cup on tea on the table to Finn’s face. “Do you like it?”

Finn glanced at the tea, then stared, slightly bewildered, at Edrissa. “Um… yeah?”

Edrissa grinned and flushed. “Good. I got it from this store in Crayton that sells teas and herbs and things, and I love how chicory smells, and they’ve been using it kind of like coffee up here when it’s scarce, but I think it’s so nice as a tea because it works so well with cinnamon and cloves, you know, and sometimes just a tiny bit of pepper if you want to heat it up for a winter drink, and I just thought the family might like it since it’s just such a different flavor. And it grows on the side of the road up here! There’s a lot of it that grows on the road south of Crayton, we just didn’t see it because of the snow last time. It has these really nice blue flowers and that’s how you know it. But I was just hoping you’d like the tea, because it’s not… really…” Edrissa trailed off, her lips twisting in a conspiratory grin. “…it’s not everyone’s, um, _cup of tea,_ I’m sorry, that was a _terrible_ joke, but…” She waved at the tea and smiled shyly. “Yeah. I’m just glad you like it.”

Finn blinked and stared for a moment longer. They swallowed. The thoughts that moved through their head edged through slowly, as if through a fog. They’d been foggy in the past few days since reaching north. _Probably the sleep deprivation._ They shook their head and glanced at the tea.

“It’s great, Edrissa,” Ellis said beside Finn. “The tea is fucking awesome.” Finn glanced at them, and they glared softly at Finn, tilting their head towards Edrissa.

“Yeah,” Finn said flatly, and reached out to take the mug again. “It’s pretty nice. Tastes like… like cinnamon on steroids, I guess.”

Edrissa grinned. “Yeah! And like a little hint of—” She went white and cut herself off with a gasp. She was staring at Finn’s forearm.

Finn flushed deeply with shame and jerked their hand back. They dragged the long sleeve of their shirt down to cover the mostly-healed brand that marred the inside of their forearm.

They’d rolled up their sleeves for a _moment,_ while they were thinking, looking over their and Ellis’s puzzle on the table. Looking for pieces of the horses that galloped through the field of the puzzle, now that the sky was already done. They always started with the sky, always, back when—

And now, Edrissa was looking at them with a mix of horror and pity that made their skin fucking _crawl._

“Oh,” Edrissa breathed. “They, um… they—”

“Branded me, yeah,” Finn ground out through their teeth. There was no need to fucking _worry,_ they’d taken off the bandage for the last time a few days before they’d escaped. It was healing. It wasn’t going to get infected. They’d find a way to cover it up. It was fine. It was _fine._

Edrissa covered her hands with her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, the words muffled behind her hands.

“’s fine,” Finn grumbled, huddling back against the couch, wishing for the world that they could disappear into the cushions. With Edrissa on one side, Ellis on the other, and the coffee table holding the puzzle in front of them, they couldn’t easily leave. Couldn’t easily go hide in their room or in the laundry room or leave the damned house entirely, just run and run until their feet ached and their lungs burned and they could leave this fucking moment behind.

Edrissa dropped her hands and reached for the sleeve of her own shirt. She pulled her right sleeve up past her forearm to her elbow, revealing the scar there: a flat burn over the tattoo that had marked her as a plaything for two years. Her hand shook and she let her sleeve go.

“I… I kn-know—”

“Edrissa, don’t,” Finn said heavily, and let their face fall into their hands. Edrissa went silent beside them.

“Finn…” Ellis said as they put a soft hand on their shoulder. “It’s not her f—”

“I’m not saying it is,” Finn said. “I never said that. I’m just saying I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’d be good if you got that off,” Edrissa said softly.

Finn raised their head to look at her. “What?”

“I mean…” Edrissa’s lips trembled and she bit down on them. “Um… If you’re ever seen, I mean, if anyone ever sees that, the… the _wrong people_ …” She trailed off into a whisper. She looked at Finn with heavy implication. “You could be, um, taken. Taken back, and, I mean—”

“What, to the Stormbecks?” Finn said bitterly. They dragged a hand through their hair. “The Stormbecks are fucking _dead,_ Edrissa.” Edrissa flinched weakly beside them. Finn hung their head. “S-sorry. I’m sorry. I just mean… The Stormbecks won’t be looking for me because they’re _gone._ There’s no one to sell me to.”

“There is,” Edrissa said, and Finn lifted their gaze to her. “Um… I heard you t-talk about, um… G-Gavin’s cousin once. He has a cousin. And if he wanted you…”

“Mark doesn’t know about us,” Finn said, feeling exhaustion dragging them down.

_How long have I been this tired?_

_Have I been making mistakes this entire time?_

“But what if he _does?_ ” Edrissa said, her small frame trembling. “He’s still alive. What if he heard about you while you were, um, south? What if he… he wants you back? What if he and Gavin—” Edrissa’s mouth shut with a snap.

Finn peered up at her. “What if he and… and Gavin, what?”

She slowly shook her head. “N-nothing. Um. Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Finn held her gaze for a moment longer before they slumped forward again.

“Finn…” Ellis said weakly beside them. “Maybe… maybe it’s not a bad idea.”

Finn’s head snapped up. “What?”

Ellis swallowed hard and glanced at Edrissa, then back to Finn. “I mean… if the brand marks you…”

“It doesn’t _mark_ me,” Finn said, a bubble of fragile rage rising inside them. “It… it reminds me. Of what Coll— of what the _syndicates_ did.” Their left hand went to wrap around their arm over the brand. “It shows what I went through. It shows I _survived._ It shows that there are people out there who are evil and that we _beat them._ ”

“It also shows that you can be sold back to them if you’re found,” Ellis said, a hardness in their eyes.

“I won’t be _found,_ ” Finn spat back, the rage quickly giving way to fear. “I won’t. We’re… we’re _safe_ up here. We’re going to stay _safe._ I can’t be… c-can’t be _sold_ back…” When did their hands start shaking? Their fingers dug harder into the brand. The pain stabbed through their fear.

“Finn,” Ellis said gently. “Babe.” They reached out and pulled Finn’s hand away from the brand. It stung in the open air. “I’m just saying… I’m sorry. We’re just saying that having something on you that marks you as _Stormbeck-owned_ can bring… nothing but good.”

“But…” Finn’s eyes burned with tears. Why were they _reacting_ this way? It was a brand that was burned into their skin, showing them as _property._ As a _slave._ They _should_ want it off. They should want to gnaw their own arm off to get it off them. They should want to cover it like Isaac covered his scars, cowering away from the world as if their eyes burned him. They should feel shame. They should feel terror.

“But… it’s the only scar from her that I ha-have.”

Ellis froze, their eyes darting between Finn’s. Then, they leaned back, and something blazed in their eyes that made Finn shiver.

“We can make it so there’s still a scar,” Ellis whispered.

Edrissa took in a sharp breath next to them. Finn couldn’t look at her. “But… you should… you should want it _gone._ You should— Why would you want… something from, from _them,_ on—”

“ _Should_ nothing, Edrissa,” Ellis said tightly, their blue-green-grey eyes still locked on Finn’s, and Finn could have melted, could have _kissed_ them, for understanding. For _knowing._ “Sometimes you need scars.”

“N-no you, you _don’t,_ ” Edrissa murmured, and the floor creaked as she took a step back. “You don’t want—”

“Everyone heals differently,” Ellis said, finally breaking eye contact and glancing over Finn’s shoulder to look at Edrissa. “Some people wish their bodies were healed again. Like Isaac. And some…” Ellis’s hand wrapped around Finn’s and squeezed. “…some need the scar. As a distraction. As a reminder.”

Finn squeezed back. They knew about Ellis’s scars all too well.

“Um…” Finn glanced up at Edrissa. Her eyes were wide, angry, her hand clutching her forearm over her own scar. “I still think you should, um, have it off. For our… to keep us safe.”

Finn’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “I… I can… I’ll think about it.”

“That is actually a good idea, babe,” Ellis said, and Finn softened a little. “I know we’re north, but… if you’ll be helping with the refugees, and you’ll be in Crayton… Shit-ster said the syndicates send agents through and… all it takes is one… one of them to see… just for a second…”

Finn rolled their eyes. “I’m not exactly basing any of my actions on the word of that piece of shi—”

“It’s our family, Finn,” Ellis said, sharpness finding its way into their voice for the first time. “It puts our family at… at risk.” Ellis licked their lips and looked at Finn, their eyes pleading, angry. “It’s our… our _family._ ”

Tears prickled Finn’s eyes and they stared at the table, their eyes moving sightlessly over the puzzle. Swirls of color, it’s all it was, all anything ever was. They swallowed the lump in their throat.

“Fine,” they said heavily. “I’ll start researching, um, safe ways to remove brands.”

Ways to reduce pain didn’t enter their mind. They were so far beyond caring.


	27. I Think I Need A Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit consensual sex

_Years ago_

Ellis sat at the bar and tossed back another shot of… something. They weren’t sure what. It burned as it went down.

Gray was talking to the bartender animatedly, something about the eastern sector and how they’d disrupted the supply lines for some punk kid the Stormbecks put in charge for some ungodly reason. _At least he seems to be shit at his job. Since he was put in charge over there, nothing’s gotten done. He just sits in his fucking warehouse doing god knows what._

Ellis traced the edge of their shot glass with one finger and went to ask for another. The only thing good about these roadhouses was the liquor. It helped them forget. It blunted the edges of the splinters that twisted in their mind, every day. Every moment. They opened their mouth – and froze.

Across the bar, someone was looking at them. They were young, couldn’t have been older than Isaac, and Isaac was practically a _baby._

_Twenty-four. How is a kid that young so good at…_ Ellis’s heart twisted. They’d only known him for a year, but they had a feeling they knew _exactly_ why Isaac was so good at fighting, protecting, _killing._ It hurt them to think about. _I did what I’ve done for revenge. He did it for something else entirely._

Ellis blinked and realized they hadn’t taken their eyes off the stranger staring at them across the bar. The stranger picked up their drink and wandered over. They sat down right next to Ellis.

Ellis watched Isaac’s hand shift to his waistband, his eyes sharp and focused on the handsome stranger who sat beside Ellis. Ellis flushed and turned to look them full in the face.

Damn, they were _cute._ Their auburn hair was messy and stood on end in places, as if they’d just rolled out of bed. Their shoulders were broad, but not bulky. They had graceful hands with long, nimble fingers that wrapped gently around the bottle in front of them, and Ellis wondered what exactly they could _do_ with those hands. Their lips were full and parted with a warm, flirtatious smile. And their eyes…

_Holy fuck._

Their eyes were an intoxicating hazel, deep and gorgeous and staring _right back at them._ Ellis blushed and looked down at their empty shot glass. _Dammit. I should have gotten another one._ Their chest warmed with the liquor, enough that they wondered what this stranger looked like naked but not enough to _do_ anything about it.

They opened their mouth to speak, and the stupidest fucking thing that could have come out of their mouth _did_ come out of their mouth, the words slightly slurred. “How old are you?”

The stranger smiled wider. “Twenty-four. You?”

“Thirty-one.” _They_ are _the same age as Isaac._

The stranger smiled and held out a hand. “I’m Finn,” they said, leaning in close so Ellis could hear them better over the music. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“Ellis,” Ellis said through numb lips, and shook Finn’s hand once. _Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ…_ “I, um, travel a lot.”

“Oh.” Finn took a sip of their beer. “What do you do?”

_Are we seriously talking about this? I want to talk about your lips and how they might feel on my thighs. Shit, I’m too drunk for this._

“Wanna go outside?” Ellis said, leaning in closer until their lips nearly brushed Finn’s ear. “We can talk better.”

Finn smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” they said with a laugh. “Though I’m not sure your entourage looks happy about that.”

Ellis shot a glance at the others. They were all looking at them with variously nervous looks – except Isaac. Isaac looked at the stranger like he was searching them for weapons.

“I’m going outside,” Ellis shouted to them all over the music. They turned to go before anyone could protest. They grabbed Finn’s hand and pulled them through the crowd, out the front doors. Ellis led them around the corner, out of sight of the patrons milling around out front. Without a word, Ellis pushed Finn against the wall kissed them, hard. Their lips were soft. They tasted like dark beer and peanuts and something Ellis wanted _so badly_. Their hands slipped up under Finn’s shirt.

“Hah, _shit,_ ” Finn huffed, and arched into Ellis’s touch. “Hey, now. You don’t even…” They paused and let out an easy laugh. Ellis’s skin burned where they were pressed against Finn, their damp t-shirt cooling in the outside air. “I was gonna say you don’t even know my name, but, um…” Finn grinned at Ellis, and Ellis realized for the first time that this stranger was probably a few drinks further in than just that beer.

“I don’t need to know your name,” Ellis murmured against Finn’s lips, and pulled them away from the wall of the roadhouse only to shove them back a little harder, the impact forcing a grunt out of Finn’s smiling mouth. “Just… fucking kiss me. _Jesus,_ you’re gorgeous.”

Finn pulled Ellis in for a kiss and groaned against their mouth, their tongue pressing in deep. “Not so bad yourself, baby,” they panted, as Ellis’s hand fisted in their hair. “Goddamn, I don’t know what the _fuck_ I was thinking, waiting so long to talk to you.”

“You talk a lot,” Ellis sighed, yanking Finn’s shirt up almost around their neck.

“You give me a lot to talk about.” Finn met Ellis’s ferocity, and their hand closed on Ellis’s throat. Heat blazed between their legs. “Ah, _damn._ You gonna fuck me right here against the wall?”

Ellis bit down on Finn’s neck. “That’s the plan. Turn me around.”

_“Shit.”_ Finn spun and shoved Ellis against the wall of the roadhouse, their chest pressed against the cold cinderblock wall, Finn’s chest against their back. Their stomach bucked as they heard the rattle of Finn unbuckling their belt over the faint crashing beat of the music coming from inside.

Ellis pushed against the wall of the roadhouse, pressing themself back against Finn’s heat. With their other hand they fumbled at the front of their jeans. They unbuttoned them and shoved them down around their hips. Desperately, they rolled their hips back towards Finn, and trembled as they heard them tear open the package of a condom.

“Sh-shit,” Ellis breathed, nearly wild with need. “I f-forgot…”

“I got you, baby,” Finn said softly as they rolled on the condom, and slid their cock between Ellis’s legs.

“Don’t call be baby,” Ellis gasped, their eyes rolling back at the heat of Finn’s cock against them.

“Okay. Won’t… won’t call you baby.” Ellis could feel Finn’s panting breaths against the back of their neck. They shuddered as Finn’s hips twitched forward. Their mouth dropped open into a moan as Finn’s cock pressed against them – and slid inside, filling them.

Finn hummed softly and kissed the back of Ellis’s neck, their hands gently gripping their hips. Perfectly still inside them, for just a moment. Like pieces fitting together. Like returning home.

Ellis’s heart thudded painfully in their chest. They reached behind them, their hand locking in a fist around the waistband of Finn’s pants, loosened now and hanging just slightly off their hips.

_“Fuck me,”_ they growled. “Stop wasting time and fucking _fuck me._ ”

“Mmm, I think I can do that,” Finn crooned. Their hand snaked across the front of Ellis’s hip and settled between their legs. Just as their fingers reached Ellis’s clit, Finn snapped their hips forward, pushing Ellis harder against the wall.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Ellis sighed. “Just like _that._ ”

Finn chuckled deep in their throat and began to fuck Ellis hard.

They bit down hard on their lips, the moan building in them threatening to turn into a scream if this stranger, this… _Finn_ … kept touching them like this, with their fingers on their clit and their _cock_ inside them, Ellis might just have to take them to the motel across the street for the night, put what little money they had down on a room that charged by the hour, pin Finn down on scratchy sheets and fuck them until neither of them could walk, and pray when they left they wouldn’t carry bedbugs or lice or mites with them.

_But oh my_ god, _I don’t care about that shit, Jesus god, fuck, I just want them,_ fuck _…_

“Goddamn… what was your name again?” Finn panted, each word broken with their hard, deep thrusts.

“Ellis,” they moaned. “Oh, god, Finn, _Christ,_ just like that, _harder_ …”

“Look, I’m…” Finn giggled and lost their rhythm. “I’m… a little, a few beers in right now so my b-balance isn’t quite—”

_“Harder,”_ Ellis begged. “Jesus fuck, please, fuck me _harder_ …”

Finn groaned. “Oh, fuck, babe— sorry, you said—”

“Babe is fine,” Ellis panted. “Babe is fine. Oh, god, Finn…” Ellis whined softly, their forehead pressed against the wall, the cool cinderblock pressing hard against their skin, as they pulled Finn harder, _closer,_ dragged themself back hard on Finn’s cock. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Finn, _yes_ …”

Finn whimpered wordlessly, their fingers still circling Ellis’s clit. “Is this—”

“It’s good, it’s good, Finn, _fuck_ …” Ellis couldn’t think past the rising tide of their orgasm, the overwhelming flush of heat and pleasure building in their chest, in their stomach, in their pelvis. “Fuck, Finn, yes, yes, _yes_ …”

“Oh, god, I’m trying to… Ellis, I might… wanna make you come first, though, _fuck_ …”

_“I’m good,”_ Ellis groaned, and came hard.

_“Oh, thank god,”_ Finn huffed against the back of their neck. They thrust deep into Ellis once, twice…

They buried themself deep and sighed, their mouth open against Ellis’s shoulder, damp with sweat.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Finn moaned, muffled against Ellis’s skin. “That was… _fuck,_ Ellis you are just—”

“I could go again in a sec,” Ellis panted, their palms flat against the wall, their own wetness rolling slowly down their thigh.

“Oh.” Finn laughed, a little drunkenly, and pulled slowly out of Ellis. Ellis whimpered at the emptiness. “I mean… fuck, sure, I have a room over…” They pointed across the street at the motel Ellis had thought about earlier. They pulled the condom off and tucked themself back into their pants.

Ellis pulled their own pants up, slightly dizzy. “Perfect.” Already, heat was stirring again in their gut. “I want you every fucking—”

_BANG._

Searing heat flashed across the outside of Ellis’s thigh.

_“Fuck!”_ Ellis screamed. For a crazy half-second, they somehow thought they’d been stung by a bee. They raised their gaze to Finn’s. Finn looked back with wide, terrified eyes.

“Fuckin… _bullets!_ ” Finn shouted, and grabbed Ellis’s hand. They pulled them towards the street, headed for the hotel.

_“NO!”_ Ellis shrieked. The dug in their heels and dragged Finn back towards the parking lot.

“My stuff!” Finn shouted over the rising din of people running out of the roadhouse. “My stuff’s in the, the motel, I have a gun—”

_“Isaac has a gun!”_ Ellis screamed. “And Vera has two! And Gray has one! And… I have…” Ellis skidded to a stop, patting all their pockets. “Gun. Gun. _Fuck._ ”

_Isaac has my gun._ He’d gently pulled it out of their ankle holster after Ellis had tossed back their third shot. _Fuck._

“But—”

Ellis spun and grabbed Finn by the face and yanked them close. “We get to my team. Then we go to your motel. I don’t know what the _fuck_ that was…” They stumbled, and pain shot through their leg.

“You can go find your team,” Finn grumbled, pulling out of Ellis’s hand, their lips pursed in bewildered irritation. “I’m going to go get my shit. Okay? This was great. See you if I see you.”

“Yeah, fucking see you.” The pleasure that had been washing through them before the gunshot was pushed out by terror and pain. Bitter disappointment rankled in them. They stumbled another step. “Oh, _fuck._ ” They clutched at the spot that was burning hotter and hotter. A hundred bee stings.

Finn glanced down, and their eyes widened as Ellis pulled their hand away from their thigh, confused at the wet stickiness they found there.

Their palm was stained dark under the neon lights of the roadhouse.

Ellis gasped, and the pain nearly bowled them over. The last dregs of sloppy warmth from the alcohol hardened and cooled to a diamond-like shard of terror.

“Did I just… did I just get _shot?_ ” Ellis breathed.

Finn grabbed their hand and pulled them back towards the parking lot. “Okay, your team! Get me to them, now! Fuck… _shit_ …”

Dazed, Ellis stumbled forward, the bodies jostling around them seeming miles away. They smacked into someone and nearly fell back, a curse on their lips before they realized they’d run into _Isaac._

“Ellis!” he gasped. “Oh, fuck, _Ellis._ Thank god. Come on, car’s this way. Are you… oh, fuck, Ellis, are you _bleeding?_ ”

_“Fuck yes I’m bleeding!”_ Ellis shrieked at him, tears of shock constricting their throat. “I… I mean, Jesus _Christ_ …”

“Who the fuck is this?” Isaac demanded, his eyes raking over Finn. Ellis realized they were still squeezing Finn’s hand. He took a heavy step towards them, drawing up to his full height and towering over Finn and Ellis both. “Did they… did you fucking _hurt them?_ ”

“No!” Finn squeaked, their hands gravitating towards the wound on Ellis’s thigh. “I… we were just…” They flushed, their cheeks darkening in the sickly pink light of the neon.

Ellis lifted their chin. “They were with me. No. Didn’t hurt me. But… Isaac, we’ve gotta… _fuck_.”

“Yeah. Gotta go.” Isaac’s words grew clipped. “Let’s fucking go.”

Then Ellis was being herded forward and practically shoved into the open door of the car. The stranger – _fuck, what was their name again?_ – crawled in behind them.

“No. Wrong car, buddy. Get the fuck out.” Isaac’s hand closed on Finn’s shirt and he dragged them halfway out of the car.

“No!” Ellis screamed, and pulled the stranger back in. They toppled in and fell on top of Ellis, their lips suddenly inches from each other. “They’re with me,” they said weakly.

“For fuck’s—”

“Now, Isaac!” Vera shouted, climbing into the driver’s seat and revving the engine. Isaac stared at the stranger for a moment more, then climbed in beside them. Gray was already in the front seat. Isaac closed the door, and Vera floored it out of the parking lot.

Ellis blinked, and the stranger’s shirt was off. They stared at their chest with an open mouth, the muscles rippling under the skin, then falling away into darkness as the car pulled out onto the lightless street. The handsome stranger – Finn, their name was Finn – pressed their balled-up shirt against the wound on Ellis’s thigh and leaned. Ellis screamed.

“For _fuck’s sake,_ can you get the fuck _off that?”_

Finn stared at them, their gaze still a little hazy from the alcohol. “And do... what, exactly?”

“And... do something _useful,_ for fuck’s sake. That fucking hurts... FUCK!”

Finn rolled their eyes and even in the dark of the moving car, even with the wound leaking blood onto the seat, Ellis’s mouth went a little dry.

“You want me to do something useful,” Finn said, just a little slurred. “Well, maybe I could go in there and cauterize shit, or suture the vein if that’s what’s bleeding, or go in and plant some bionic... fucking... uh...” Finn leaned forward and thrust their face in Ellis’s, still putting all their weight on the wound. Ellis wet their lips. Finn looked at them dazedly.

“I’m the one who’s trying to help you in the back of a moving fucking car with no supplies with this person who _drives like a lunatic!_ ”they screamed over their shoulder at Vera as she tore around a corner. Vera rolled her eyes in the rearview mirror.

_“What the fuck was that?”_ Ellis shrieked, the wound burning dully. “What… what the fuck… _was that?_ ”

“Accidental discharge,” Isaac snapped. “Some fucking idiot left their safety off and decided to pull out their gun to make a point. I didn’t feel like sticking around…” Isaac swallowed thickly. “I’m just fucking glad no one was hurt!”

_“I WAS HURT!”_ Ellis screamed.

“Look. All I know is,” Finn said, their voice a little wobbly, their eyes crossed slightly as they looked at Ellis, “Is I came outside to make out with a hot, um, motherfucking babe, and now I can’t believe you’re _complaining_ about my _bleeding control measures._ It’s stupid. Jesus _Christ_...”

Ellis sat back against the seat and cried out as Finn leaned harder on the wound. “You always this good with words?” they sniped. 

“YES!” Finn shouted. “I am always this... um... shit.” They lifted the balled-up shirt from the wound. “Hm. It’s actually almost done bleeding. We’re good.”

“Great,” Isaac growled. “Vera, pull over and we can—”

“No!” Ellis cried, their hand closing around Finn’s wrist. “They can… um… they can stay.”

“N-no, ah… um…” Finn shook their head. “Fuck. _What_ is your name again? I should… should fucking _know,_ like, we fucked, but—”

“You _fucked?_ ” Vera and Isaac said at the same time.

Ellis glared at Finn, their stomach bucking at how they could still see the shadow of Finn’s body over them. “Fucking excellent, asshole.”

“Sorry,” Finn murmured. They pulled the t-shirt away again, and bent over to peer in close at Ellis’s wound, their hand coming up to switch on the overhead light. Ellis flinched as the light came on. “Dammit.”

“Dammit what?” Ellis said, pushing themself up off the seat, hoping to god they didn’t look as terrible as they felt.

“It’s gonna need stitches,” Finn mumbled, and flicked off the light again. “Within the next two hours.”

“Shit,” Ellis whispered. “Isaac, are we within two hours of Morgan? You know Katie there can—”

“Four hours in the opposite direction we wanna go,” Isaac ground out. His voice shook. “And Erin said the Tyrols are dead, so they’re out.”

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” Ellis spat, slamming their head back against the headrest with each word. “ _Shit._ What are we gonna… _fuck_ …”

“I can do it,” Finn said, as if confused.

Ellis scoffed. “It’s not like stitching a fucking shirt, Finn. Have you ever seen stitches done? It’s—”

“Yeah, I have,” Finn said, petulant. “I fucking have. I’ve _done_ them. Loads of times. I’m a medic. But my stuff’s back at the motel if we can just—”

“You’re a medic?” Gray said from the front seat, sounding not a little bit excited. “By training?”

“Um… yeah?” Finn licked their lips, and Ellis shivered at the memory of that tongue pressing against theirs.

“Hm.” Gray tilted their head as they looked steadily at Finn. “You need a team?”

“A… team? What, like… like the _rebels?_ Is that what you are? Is that…?” Their gaze snapped to Ellis’s. “Is that what you meant when you said you _travelled_ a lot?”

“Yup,” Ellis said, popping the _p_. It _excited_ them that Finn was so impressed. At least, they hoped they were. “Rebels. Fighting the syndicates. You need a team? We could, um…” They swallowed dryly. “I mean, _I_ wouldn’t mind if you, uh, stay…”

Finn held their gaze for a moment, and Ellis nearly leaned forward and dragged their tongue down Finn’s chest right then. They fought back the urge, fought the _need_.

“Um… fine,” Finn griped. “But only if we go back to the motel for my kit.”

“Deal,” Gray said quickly. Finn glanced at them, before turning back to stare at Ellis again.


	28. Found Family

Vera adjusted her feet against the wood floor of the barn, keeping the thick mattress the team had brought back from Crayton in the corner of her vision. It was no dojo mat, but it worked for the hard landings as she, Isaac, and Edrissa practiced fighting.

All the barn doors were open to let in the natural light, the cool air drifting through, chilling the sweat on her skin. Motes of hay dust shone gold in the air as they floated by.

Vera glanced to the side where Edrissa stood. Edrissa’s arms were wrapped tight around her chest, her hair pulled back out of the way, her cheeks flushed from the past half hour of training. Her eyes were riveted on Vera.

Vera’s gaze returned to the front, and he raised her eyebrows at Isaac.

_Ready?_

Isaac stepped toward Vera in a slow lunge, reaching out for her. The wood floor creaked under his shoes. He stopped with his hands inches from her shoulders and waited for Vera to make the next move.

“With this setup with your feet,” Vera said, looking again to Edrissa, “You can throw him pretty easily. Look at how his right foot is out in front of him. It’s a pretty easy target, with it out there this far.” She nudged Isaac’s right foot with hers. Edrissa watched intently.

“The trick to this throw is it feels a little counterintuitive at first. Because you have to go _in._ ” Vera shuffled forward into Isaac’s reach, her right foot landing outside of his, the outside of their knees pressed slightly together.

Edrissa shrugged her shoulders higher. “I go… in?” She bit her lip, and her eyes flicked to Isaac.

“Yeah,” Vera said. “It puts him off balance. He’s not expecting it. He’s got reach on me, but once I’m inside _here_ …” Vera gestured to Isaac’s arms, held out on either side of her. “…inside his reach, he has no room to maneuver me. It’s difficult, but I _can_ have the advantage here.”

Edrissa nodded slowly. “Okay…”

“And,” Vera said, and glanced at Isaac, “From here, I can strike before I throw. Just like I showed you last week. Like this.” She slowly brought the heel of her hand against Isaac’s nose. “Or this.” She pulled her fist back and sent it forward again, letting it rest gently against Isaac’s ribs under his outstretched arms. “Stun him before I put him off balance.”

“But…” Edrissa took a step forward. Vera didn’t know if she’d ever felt someone’s eyes on her this intently before, with this much scrutiny. “What if he, um…” Her eyes flicked to Isaac again, and she seemed to shrink, just slightly, before Vera’s eyes. “What if he… grabs me?”

“Then we can go straight to the throw,” Vera said. “When people get thrown off balance, they stop thinking about whatever it is they were doing and focus on breaking the fall. It’s a brain thing. I don’t remember what part is responsible for it.” She grinned. “Finn would know.”

“So if I throw him off balance…” Edrissa murmured. “…he’ll let go?”

“Probably,” Vera said with a nod. “And even if he doesn’t, after the throw, you’ll be on top of him. But we’ll get there. So.” She adjusted her footing again. “Try to strike first. The heel of the hand to his nose. Or fingers in his eyes. Punching the ribs he’s not protecting. Anything you can use. Now we throw.” Vera leaned forward until the side of her thigh touched Isaac’s. “You want this point of contact as high on your leg as possible. If it’s low…” Vera pulled back until their legs touched at the calves and pushed Isaac gently. He wobbled, but stayed on his feet. “…it might not work. Go high. And you’ve got a lower center of gravity. It’ll be easier to get under his.”

“Low center of gravity, high on the leg,” Edrissa murmured.

“Right. So.” Vera leaned in again until her and Isaac’s legs were almost touching at the hip. “I brace my leg against his. Now you can use a few methods to throw him. Grab the shirt…” Vera’s hands closed on Isaac’s shirt. “…or push the neck…” Her hand rested gently just below Isaac’s throat between his collar bones, not actually touching his neck, and not touching the healing bruise in the center of his sternum. Isaac took in a hitched breath and looked at her in gratitude. “…pretty much any part of the body. You get a good grip…” Her hands closed on Isaac’s shirt again. “…and you push him back. Use your hips to rotate.” She flipped Isaac over her leg and flat onto his back on the mattress. He landed well and held still, waiting for Vera to make her next strike. Patient. He looked up at her with quiet trust.

“From here, you can strike again, even if he held onto you as he went down. You can punch…” Vera crouched and her fist landed feather-light on Isaac’s nose, his solar plexus, hovered just above his groin. “You can kick…” She straightened and aimed her foot again at Isaac’s nose, solar plexus, groin, not actually touching him. “Or you can run.” Vera stepped back. “Does all that make sense?” She looked away from Isaac, turning slightly to look at Edrissa.

Edrissa was staring at Isaac where he lay splayed on the mattress with nothing short of _hunger_ in her eyes. Vera had seen that over the past week, how Edrissa’s face went cold and dark with a sort of seething triumph at seeing Vera put Isaac flat on his back over and over again during these demonstrations, and during their own practices together, where they fought fierce and dirty, still watching for Isaac’s bruised ribs, testing each other, keeping each other sharp. Vera knew what that look on Edrissa’s face meant. Edrissa had been abused – _raped,_ and Vera’s stomach heaved to even think the word – for years, and now she got to see a bigger man, one who’d been violent and scary, be made vulnerable and helpless by a smaller woman, although Vera was taller than most.

That logic made _sense._ Vera _understood._

Even so, there was something about the vicious excitement that simmered under Edrissa’s focused, intense gaze that scratched at the back of Vera’s mind. There was something… _about_ it. Vera couldn’t put a finger on it. She brushed it away and reached down to pull Isaac to his feet.

“Want to try with me?” Vera said, and Edrissa stepped forward eagerly.

Isaac stepped back, moving aside several paces as Vera took position near the mattress where he’d just been standing.

That was the deal. Isaac helped out, let Vera demonstrate techniques on him, but he never laid a hand on Edrissa. He never sparred with her, never had her practice her throws and attacks on him. Isaac stood to the side when it was her turn.

They all were content with that.

Edrissa took her own position near the mattress. Her hands fell to her sides, and Vera could see the slightest tremor as her hands curled into fists.

“Here,” Vera said, and put her right foot slightly in front of her left, a little wider apart than shoulder width. “Like this. This is what you always return to, no matter what foot is in front. We’ll use the right foot, this time. This is your ‘ready’ stance.” She waited for Edrissa to adjust, Edrissa’s movements so small and precise, like she was doing brain surgery with her feet. Trying to mimic Vera’s stance perfectly, down to the fraction of an inch.

Edrissa looked up at Vera. “Like that?”

“Yeah,” Vera said, and a smile. “Perfect.”

Edrissa flushed at the praise. Vera’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in her chest at the sight of her, so _small_ and gawky, all elbows and knees, her face still round with childhood but set in such bitter determination that no child should ever have to muster. The hard set of Edrissa’s mouth, the hesitant tension in her hands, the way she flinched and shrank for just a moment at loud sounds, it all cut Vera to her soul.

_You should have been making friends and growing your herbs and sewing all your favorite clothes and chasing after kisses and staying up late to talk about all the things about life you can’t even imagine yet. You should have been protected. You should have been_ safe _._

Pain flickered across Vera’s face for a moment, and Edrissa’s eyebrows rose. “Vera? Are you…”

“Yeah,” Vera said, forcing brightness into her voice. “Sorry, was just thinking of something. Yeah. Your stance is perfect. Does it feel solid?”

Edrissa bounced on the balls of her feet. “Uh… I think so?”

“Good. Ready?”

Edrissa’s face set into such a serious look that it was almost comical. “Yes.”

Vera grinned. “Okay. I’m going to step forward…” She moved towards Edrissa, her hands slightly outstretched.

Edrissa darted to the side, stepping on the wrong side of Vera’s extended right leg. She looked down at her feet, then up to Vera in confusion. “Did I…?”

“It’s okay,” Vera said, stepping back to reset. Her feet shuffled against the wood floorboards. “You just stepped on the other side of my leg. It’s not wrong, you can still do things from that angle. Try again?”

Edrissa nodded, her cheeks flushed now with embarrassment.

“Hey,” Vera said, her voice low. “It’s okay. Let’s just try again.”

“Okay,” Edrissa whispered. She took her stance again and waited for Vera’s move.

Vera stepped forward. Edrissa stumbled forward, but the outside of her right leg ended up on the outside of Vera’s right leg. Edrissa looked up at Vera with wide eyes and a wider grin.

“Good!” Vera said, nodding. “Now the strikes, if you want.”

“Right.” Edrissa pantomimed punching Vera in the face.

“Now grab. Get a solid grip.”

“Okay…” Edrissa’s hands locked around the open flannel Vera wore over her tank top.

“Now push.”

Edrissa pushed. Vera wobbled, but caught herself. Edrissa looked up at her, biting her lip in confusion and disappointment. “It didn’t work,” she said sadly, their legs still tangled together.

“Use your hips, like I showed you last week,” Vera said gently. “Start the movement in your hips. I should have mentioned… don’t _just_ push. Rotate, too.”

Edrissa twisted and flipped Vera over her leg and onto her back, so quickly her stomach flipped. Edrissa stared down at Vera with an open mouth, her eyes wide with a painful mix of amazement and disbelief and terror. Her hands went up to cover her mouth.

“Good,” Vera said with a grin. Edrissa slowly lowered her hands, and her lips pulled into a shy smile. Her eyes sparkled with pride. “Try again?”

“Yes,” Edrissa whispered, nearly bouncing in place. “Yes. Let’s try again. Faster?”

“Not too fast,” Vera said with a smile as she got to her feet. She forced down a groan, her lower back aching as she straightened up. “I don’t need you kicking my ass just yet. I still have a few things to show you today.”

“Okay,” Edrissa said, and quickly took position again as Vera moved to stand in her place.

Vera threw a glance back at Isaac where he stood, his arms crossed but relaxed, waiting to step in to demonstrate with Vera again. She could read the same satisfaction and pride that thrummed in her chest all over in his face. _She’s learning fast._

Vera set her jaw. _She’ll never go to war, like we did. She’ll never have to. But she’ll be able to defend herself against anyone who messes with her. She won’t be helpless. She’s healing herself, every time she does this._

_And I’m helping make that happen._

It was too late to save Edrissa from her past, but it felt good to save someone from whatever dangers faced her in the future.


	29. Comfort

Sam groaned and rolled onto their back. Finally – _finally,_ after almost two weeks, _how did Isaac cope with this?_ – they could lie on their back without pain shooting through them. The whip marks were healing. The wound in their arm was healing.

The nerve they were almost certain was severed, was not.

An afternoon breeze rustled the curtains in their room, making the room waver light-dark-light-dark as they billowed in and out. Their gaze moved slowly over the ceiling, the thirteen dark wood beams that stood out against the white. Thirteen, from one end of the room to the other. They’d counted them so many times in the time they’d spent holed up there.

It was… exhausting, sometimes, to be around the others. Not that the others were doing anything wrong; it was just so hard to look at each of them and seen pain tighten in their eyes every time they looked at Sam. Watching the guilt drag at them all, especially _Isaac,_ with his own wounds healing to scars, was like trying to tear a bullet out of their chest with their bare hands. Never fully sure if they would tear something vital as they did. Wondering if maybe the guilt was something that would stay buried in this family forever. Something they should just get used to, learn to breathe past.

They couldn’t take the guilt. Couldn’t take the way everyone’s hands would jerk towards them when they went to stand, as if they needed something to help them balance every time. They couldn’t take how the others would trail off in the middle of a sentence, their gaze fixed on Sam, as if stunned into silence by the magnitude of Sam’s pain. It was more than frustrating, it was maddening.

Edrissa treated them the same as she always did.

Sam’s stomach growled. _I wonder when dinner is?_

Their stomach growled again, and louder, as if protesting the notion of waiting until dinner to eat. Sam groaned and pushed themself upright.

They were getting better at it, now, moving with only one hand. Their right arm was still slinged, and the surgical cut Finn had made was nearly closed. The infection was gone. Finn was encouraging them to do small, simple exercises, more just letting their arm hang and slowly using their left hand to move the arm in its socket. Finn said it would make healing progress better.

_I don’t think it’s going to get much better than this._

Slowly, they stood, savoring the feeling of the rug beneath their feet. They’d slept on concrete for three weeks, the only respite being when Colleen had forced them to kneel on the soft plush rugs wherever she chose to chain them down. Chain them down and strangle them or beat them or drown them or whip them or—

They shuddered and shook their head. _No. No. Can’t fall in._ They adjusted their arm in its sling – made of very nice, light fabric, and blue, Edrissa made it for them herself – and walked to the door. They pulled it open and were greeted by the soft _brrp?_ of the black cat sitting right outside.

Sam smiled and bent to pet him. “Hey, Nata,” they said softly. Nata pushed with fierce adoration into Sam’s hand. “Hey, sweet boy.” They straightened, and steadied themself against the wall as the hallway went black for a moment. They breathed slowly through their mouth as their vision returned.

They wandered down the hall towards the kitchen, shivering slightly in their thin shirt and shorts. The house stayed so cool during the day, even though summer was around the corner. They didn’t mind, though. It made it easier to sleep. The heat made Sam’s wounds itchy. They rounded the corner into the living room and stopped.

Isaac and Gavin sat on the couch, their heads together as they looked at the puzzle on the coffee table. A new one – Finn and Ellis had been finishing a puzzle about every three or four days since they’d arrived north, and Gray had an entire closet filled with more. This one was of a seascape, the sun glinting off the water in a thousand different colors if you looked closely at the brushstrokes of the painting that had been printed onto the pieces. It was the hardest one yet, mostly blues and greens, with only a single sailboat to break the design of the ocean waves.

“Ellis will kill you if you mess with that puzzle,” Sam said with a gentle smile.

Isaac’s head snapped up, and his look of shock and near-terror at being caught near the puzzle made Sam burst into a snort of laughter. The laughter drew out into a groan as their cracked ribs throbbed in pain.

Isaac shot to his feet and took a step towards Sam before they could even draw a breath.

“I’m okay,” they gasped, holding their hand out in front of them. Isaac hesitated and fell back a step. “Wh-what are you guys up to? Other than taking your lives into your hands breathing on Ellis’s puzzle?” Sam’s lips quirked into an unsteady smile.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… no, pretty much just that. Just finished up sparring practice with Vera and Edrissa, and I just… kinda zoned out looking at the puzzle. It’s nice. I don’t know if it looks like the actual ocean, but…” He shrugged. “What’re you up to?”

“Um… I was gonna get some food,” Sam said, glancing behind Isaac and meeting Gavin’s gaze for a moment. For once… for the _first_ time since they reached the north again… Gavin didn’t look down and away. Warmth and relief spread faintly through Sam’s chest, like bracing for pain and receiving none.

“I was getting kinda hungry, too,” Isaac said, and glanced at Gavin behind him. “Gav, you want—” Isaac’s mouth snapped shut and he flushed a brilliant shade of red. Gavin’s cheeks flushed to match, and Sam could feel heat on their face, too.

_Gav? How did we get here?_ They bit their lip as for a moment, a memory swept through them, Gavin grinning as he forced their head back where they sat in a chair, their hands tied behind them, holding a knife to their throat as they sobbed and pleaded…

Sam shook their head to clear it. It was a slippery day today, and Sam kept sliding back into their memories.

_But I don’t hurt as much today. Please let me stay here…_

Gavin got to his feet, his cheeks still pink, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “I could, um… V-Vera showed me how to make eggs benedict last weekend. I could… um…”

Sam’s stomach grumbled loudly in the quiet room. The three of them burst out laughing. Sam winced and bit down hard on their lip.

“Eggs benedict for lunch,” Sam said tightly, counting their heartbeats and waiting for the pain to fade. It was all they could do anymore, now that Finn was slowly weaning them off the morphine and Vicodin. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six…_ Slowly, the pain in their ribs eased. On the next breath, it would hurt again, but in this precise moment…

Appreciating precise moments free of pain was the only thing that had kept Sam going for almost two weeks.

They looked up at Gavin and Isaac. They were both looking at Sam with almost identical expressions: worry, grief… guilt. Both of them, blaming themselves for the pain Sam felt every day. Both of them, the reason Sam was alive.

Sam couldn’t push that little voice down forever, though: the voice that said that if Gavin had never hurt them in the first place… and if Isaac had killed Gavin in his warehouse, when he was unconscious and bloody…

They gritted their teeth. They _hated_ those thoughts that had crept through their mind more and more, ever since they’d been shot. The pain was poisoning them, and twisted, bitter thoughts had crawled out of that festering place inside them that never felt any relief. Maybe if they had just a day without pain, an hour, a _minute,_ they could push those thoughts away, sweep them out of their mind completely. But they hurt, they _hurt,_ and the only thing that made them feel better were the pills that were slowly, slowly being taken away.

The pills, and Nata. And seeing everyone safe. Seeing Tori when she was herself, tucked under Vera’s arm with a fragile smile. And feeling the wind on their face after _three weeks_ of chilly, stagnant air in their cell. And tasting real food again, Gray’s cookies and Vera’s spicy beef stew and Edrissa’s fresh-baked bread. And looking out over the lake, bigger even than the lake at their first foster home, where they’d chased frogs and swam after spring melted the thin crust of ice over the surface…

All those things made them feel better, too.

Sam blinked, and realized none of them had said a word. They smiled, and the expression felt… tight, but like something they’d been good at, a very long time ago, and were just now trying again. The smile felt comfortable.

“Eggs b-benedict for lunch,” they said again, their tone softer. “Sounds good.”

Gavin let out a gusty breath. “Good,” he huffed. “Because it’s one of the only things I know to make on my own.” He turned and headed for the kitchen. Isaac took a step towards the kitchen as well, then paused, as if realizing he’d moved.

“Gavin,” Isaac said. “Do you want… do you need help, or…?”

“No!” Gavin said, and nudged him back towards the living room. “I can do it. I can… I can _do_ it, Isaac. Stay with Sam.” He blushed and turned away again, and disappeared into the kitchen. He was visible again a moment later over the counter that made a sort of window between the kitchen and the living room, lined with barstools looking in.

Isaac turned back to Sam, a hint of pink still on his cheeks. He flushed darker when he saw them staring at him. “What?” he said weakly, and sat down on the couch near the puzzle.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Gav’?” they said with a grin as they made their way to the couch and slowly eased themself down.

Isaac rolled his eyes, smiling back. He sat down on the couch beside them. “It just slipped out, okay? I didn’t… I haven’t been—”

“What, you haven’t been calling him _Gav-Gav_ when you’re alone?” Sam said with a laugh.

“Oh my _god,_ Sam,” Isaac whispered, his face turning an almost painful-looking red. He buried his face in his hands. _“No.”_

“Thank god,” Sam said, and nudged Isaac with their left shoulder – their _good_ shoulder. “Because I don’t think I could have tolerated that.”

Isaac snorted and looked up towards the kitchen. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Neither could I.”

Gavin was visible over the half-wall of the counter. He was bustling about the kitchen, wearing a look of intense concentration as he gathered the ingredients, wearing… an _apron._ Edrissa’s baking apron. Sam tried to suppress another snort of laughter.

Isaac nudged them back, gently. “What?” he said softly, his cheeks burning.

Sam grinned and shook their head. “Nothing,” they said, returning their gaze to Isaac. “He’s just…” Sam shrugged, gently, careful with their arm. “He’s… different.”

“He is,” Isaac said, and sat back against the cushions. Sam shivered slightly. Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. “You cold?”

“A little,” Sam admitted. Something inside them bristled, just the slightest bit, at Isaac’s concern.

_He was like this with me before I got hurt like this. He’s always been like this, with everyone. He can’t turn it off._

“Me, too,” Isaac said, and reached for the thinner blanket draped over the back of the couch. “It’s just been so hard to get… _warm_ since…” He trailed off as he shook the blanket open and laid it over both their laps.

Sam pulled the blanket up around their shoulders and leaned against Isaac. Isaac automatically opened his arm to them and they cuddled against his side.

_Just like before._

“S-so,” Isaac said softly, and Sam’s heart ached at the familiar sound of his _guilt._ “How’s the arm?”

“Um.” They squeezed their right hand into a fist – or tried to. Their thumb and first two fingers twitched, and their thumb shook as they forced it to bend. They bit their lip and grimaced, straining with all their might to just make a _fist._ Something they could do without even thinking with their left hand. But their right… Maybe there had been a _little_ bit of improvement over the past few days. Or maybe there hadn’t. They couldn’t _tell,_ not with the pain that drilled into their arm every minute…

But the pain was fading. Every day. Some days were worse than others, but every day there was a moment that hurt less than all the other moments. And every day, that moment was better than the day before.

They looked up and saw Isaac looking warily at them. They cleared their throat. “Oh. Um. Honestly, it’s… it’s better.”

Isaac’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Really?_ That’s… that’s _great._ What’s been different? Has the feeling come back yet? Have you—”

“N-no,” Sam said, and stared at the pattern of the blanket over them. “Not like that. It just… doesn’t hurt so much all the time.”

Isaac blinked and sat back. “That’s still great, Sam.”

Sam chewed their lip. Tears formed in their eyes. They didn’t know _why,_ they were just _there._ They sniffed and wiped their eyes with the blanket.

“Hey,” Isaac said gently, and he… god, he really _was_ starting to sound like himself more and more. More of the kind person Sam knew before… all this. Not that Isaac wasn’t kind _now,_ but there was… a desperation to him. There was a sense of terror under his every movement, like he was one wrong touch or loud sound away from losing himself and hurting… anyone that got too close. That had been going away, too, though.

Sam glanced up at Isaac, just to catch him gesturing with his chin at Gavin. Sam hadn’t even realized the kitchen had gone silent until they looked over at Gavin, who was standing stock-still in the opening of the half-wall, his apron and the English muffin in his hand seemingly forgotten, looking at Sam with grief written plainly over his face. He jumped and hurried over to the stove, where Sam could hear the eggs poaching in water.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Sam said, swiping at their eyes.

Isaac snorted. “Whether I give you the list chronologically or from best to worst, it would take too long.” He wrapped his arm around their shoulders again, but didn’t squeeze. Sam was grateful. Although, out of everyone Isaac probably knew best how to avoid whip marks… except possibly Vera.

“No, it’s just… nothing’s going on _now_ …” Embarrassed, Sam pressed their face into the blanket, the more they tried to hold back, the more their eyes seemed to leak tears.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Isaac said evenly, and Sam relaxed slightly with his even tone.

“It’s stupid,” Sam mumbled, and blushed with their voice broke.

“Sam. Hey.” They lifted their head and forced themself to meet Isaac’s eyes. He smiled and gently ruffled their hair. “You’re fine.”

Sam shrugged as they wiped their nose. They could smell the butter, could hear the ham sizzling in the pan as Gavin worked.

Isaac laughed weakly. “It’s… good to see you, Sam,” he said, sadness lacing the edges of his voice.

Sam grimaced. “I’ve been around.”

Isaac dipped his head. “You have. But… in your room a lot of the time. Which…” He held out his free hand in a supplicating gesture. “…if that’s where you need to be, you be there. Okay? It’s just…” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to their forehead. “It’s just good to see you out.”

Sam picked at the seam of their sling. “Yeah. I… I’ve been… hurting, and—”

“I know. And you aren’t obligated to see us. Ever.” Isaac leveled his gaze at them.

“I… I know. It’s just…” Sam bit their lip and pulled their knees in to their chest under the blanket, tucking their arm against their chest. “It’s just…” They shot a glance at Gavin, whisking something now, and back at Isaac. “So much of… I mean, you guys…” Sam huffed out a breath. “You all just look so… _guilty._ When you see me.”

Guilt crossed Isaac’s face. Sam braced for their own guilt, and disappointment, and… then Isaac’s face changed. He smiled ruefully. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sam gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Which, you know… I… It’s hard. And… and I feel guilty, too.”

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. “For… _what,_ Sam?”

Sam tilted their head back against the couch cushions, tears brimming in their eyes again. “Same old, I guess,” they murmured. “I just… so many of you have been, um, hurt. Because of me. And I… I know that… last bit, with C-Colleen, when she…” They winced as the healing whip marks on their back suddenly burned. “…when she, um, made you say those things. And when I, um, got shot. I…” Sam gulped, and they were helpless against the tears that rolled back into their hair. “If it weren’t for me, you… would never have gotten hurt in the first place. With, um, Gavin. And I… I wanted to come on that mission. I know you didn’t want me to, and I went. And I… when we got taken, all I could, um, think was…” Their eyes slid closed, sending a stream of tears down their cheeks. “Um… all I could think was… ‘please let it just be me this time.’”

Isaac blew out a forceful breath. Sam blinked their eyes open and looked at him. “Oh,” he croaked, his own eyes faraway. “That’s um… exactly what, what I thought, um… too.”

“Well, um…” Sam swallowed the ache in their throat. “Yeah. That’s… that’s why I’ve been, um, in my room a lot. Because, uh… I hate seeing your guilt. And it makes me a hypocrite because I, ah, hate feeling, um, guilty.” They shrugged. “When I see your scars.”

Isaac turned his free arm over, and his gaze moved over the scars there: flat, silver marks from the heated blade of Gavin’s knife, and dozens of thin, pink slashes from his shoulder to his wrist, where Gavin had cut him at Colleen’s house. Those were healed, now, along with the fading ring of pink scars around his wrists where he’d been handcuffed, and fought against the restraints, every single day. Fighting to get to _Sam._

“There are a lot more, now,” Isaac said softly, his voice trembling.

“We all have a lot more, now,” Sam said.

Isaac looked at them. “Sam, I… I know, I’m, I’m _sorry_ …”

Sam glared lightly at Isaac. “You’re doing it again.”

Isaac blinked. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I don’t… I swear to god I don’t even… _notice_ …”

“I know, Isaac,” Sam said sadly. They reached out and gently took Isaac’s wrist in their hand, moving their thumb over the scars on his wrists. “It’s just… what you do.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Isaac whispered, his eyes unfocused, like he wasn’t aware he was saying it out loud.

Sam’s lips pulled into a smile. More tears rolled down their cheeks, but they didn’t try to force them down, now. They leaned forward and pulled Isaac into a one-armed embrace. He held them gently, his breath huffing warmly against their hair.

“Um…”

They both glanced up to see Gavin standing over them, his eyes shifted down, one plate in each hand. The smell of Hollandaise and English muffins and ham and eggs washed over them. Their stomach grumbled again, and louder than before. Sam grinned and sat forward.

“We should probably eat at the table so we don’t, um, disturb the puzzle,” Gavin said, eyeing it. “I guess I…” He wandered over to the table and set the plates down. “I guess I could have, um, set that there, and…” He hurried back into the kitchen to grab one more plate and a handful of silverware.

Sam pushed off the blanket and got to their feet. “Smells good,” they said quietly.

Gavin’s head shot up as he set the third plate on the table. _“Thank you,”_ he breathed, wide-eyed.

Sam sat in their seat, watching the curls of steam rise from the plate. Their mouth watered. Almost without thinking, it seemed, Isaac reached for their plate to cut up the food.

“Isaac,” Sam protested weakly. “Yours will get cold. I can, um, I can wait.”

Isaac froze, Sam’s knife and fork already cutting into the eggs benedict. Bright yellow yolk oozed across the plate.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry. I can…” He glanced up at Sam. His lips slowly pulled into a smile. “How ‘bout I alternate? Cut a bite for me, cut a bite for you?”

“That sounds okay,” Sam said quietly.

Isaac cut a bite, carefully spearing the English muffin, ham, and egg, and sauce. He pushed the plate and fork towards Sam and cut a bite for himself.

Gavin had a bite almost all the way to his mouth when he shot to his feet. _“You guys eat this with hot sauce,”_ he gasped, and sprinted to the kitchen. He was back in seconds with the bottle of hot sauce Gray had bought from a woman who grew the best peppers in Crayton – she said so.

Sam took up the fork in their left hand. Even that had gotten easier in the past two weeks. They lifted the fork to their mouth and took a bite, their eyes sliding shut at the hot food. It was delicious.


	30. "Don't Say Goodbye"

Sam stretched out in bed, happily sated. The meal – lunch? Dinner? – really had been delicious. Sam smiled to think about Gavin’s cooking when he first arrived north with the team, a prisoner in every way: he burned everything he touched, except for when he dangerously undercooked things, and forgot ingredients half the time… and Ellis’s comments about the relative toxicity of the food did nothing to assuage his anxiety.

And now Gavin was poaching eggs. _Poaching eggs._ Sam laughed to themself and stared at the ceiling.

The bed gave a little as the cat jumped up beside them.

“Hey, Nata,” Sam murmured, already stretching their hand out to scratch under his chin. “Hey, boy.”

_Brrp?_ The trill turned into a squeak as the cat yawned, his mouth opening wide, revealing his long, pointed teeth, his eyes squeezing shut. The cat arched his back as the yawn ended, licking his lips and turning his golden eyes on Sam. He marched to Sam’s side and bumped his forehead against Sam’s nose.

“Agh. Thanks for getting your fur up my nose,” Sam said with a smile, brushing the fur away and reaching out to scratch the cat’s ears.

The cat settled onto its stomach and reached out his front legs, his needle-like claws shining on the tips of his splayed toes. He batted softly at the inside of Sam’s good arm and began to kneed them through the sweater they’d put on after eating with Isaac and Gavin.

Sam winced, but gently pet the cat, moving their hand slowly in one long swoop, starting at the top of his head, down his back, all the way down his tail, and back again. Slow and smooth, as the cat’s claws pricked at their bicep. They relaxed the tension they carried in their body, the constant brace against the pain that could come at any moment, with any wrong move. The drew in a deep breath, inflating their lungs past the ache in their cracked ribs, and slowly let it out. A smile spread across their face as Nata began to purr so loudly it vibrated up Sam’s arm.

“Good boy,” Sam whispered, letting their head fall back against the bed. “I don’t know how you know to avoid the painful spots, but…” They interrupted their rhythm to scratch the cat’s ears, and he pushed into Sam’s hand. Sam rested their hand on Nata’s back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest through the vibration of the purring, faster than their own breathing but steady, constant. Their eyes drifted closed. The knotted, healing muscles in their injured arm released slightly.

“Sam?”

Sam jerked and gave a strangled cry as their arm exploded into pain. They pushed themself upright, dislodging the cat, who looked at Sam with a distinct look of betrayal.

Edrissa stood in the doorway, partially obscured by the door, pushed half-way closed. She bit down hard on her lip, her head dipping forward. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to, um, s-scare—”

“You didn’t,” Sam said tightly, pushing themself all the way up to sitting. They turned and let their feet rest on the floor. “Sorry. Just startled.”

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Edrissa whispered. Sam looked up and almost had to laugh at the look of abject apology on her face, for something so small as startling Sam… and their smile fell as they thought about what had happened to her for two years that would make her this jumpy, this terrified of causing anyone displeasure. The thought twisted at Sam’s heart, and they longed to… to just _hold_ her. That’s it, just hold her. God knows she didn’t need or want anything else.

“It’s okay,” Sam said, and tilted their head at her. “What’s going on?”

“Oh.” Edrissa flushed, pink spreading over her cheeks and down her neck. “I was wondering if you, um, w-wanted to walk around the lake a bit.”

“Oh.” Sam sagged forward, reaching out into their body, measuring how much reserve of energy they had stored up today. “I…” They felt pulled out of the room, outside, where there was sun and sky and trees, but their bed was soft and comfortable and _god,_ they hadn’t slept well last night. “Could we… maybe… just hang out here?”

Edrissa’s eyes went a little wider. She looked down at the threshold of Sam’s room, like she was a vampire in the ghost stories Mrs. Shannon told when they were younger, and Edrissa had to get permission to cross the threshold…

Sam smiled at the mental image of Edrissa with oversized, sharp teeth, deadly as anything, cloaked in black, having to ask nicely to walk into a room. They didn’t know why, the picture was just… _funny._ Their smile dropped again when Edrissa’s eyes widened further, not betraying surprise, but… _fear._

“No, thank you,” Edrissa said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

“Oh.” Sam swallowed hard at their own awkwardness. Of _course_ she wouldn’t want to go into their room, sit on their bed. Sam didn’t know _much_ about Edrissa’s captivity, but with how she gravitated to Vera’s side like she was glued there, how she shivered when someone brushed past her when there wasn’t much room to walk, how she stayed far, far away from Gavin and even Isaac, sometimes, they could guess. They could only guess about how badly she’d been abused, and hurt, and used, and as a _teenager_ …

_You were a teenager six months ago._

The crushing weight of Edrissa’s pain, her past, stole the breath from their lungs.

_I am so, so lucky._

Pain seared through their arm, chasing that thought from their head. They looked up and saw Edrissa staring at them, her lips trembling, as if she was trying to build up the nerve to cross the threshold and walk into Sam’s room.

Sam held out their hand, and she stared at them, looking dumbfounded. “No,” Sam croaked, pulling in slow breaths and pushing the air out slowly between their lips as they waited for the pain to ease. “It’s okay. We can go outside.”

Edrissa brightened and took a step back. “Okay,” she said, a shy smile pulling at her lips.

Sam stood with a groan, adjusting their arm in its sling. The cat got to his feet and hopped off the bed, trotting out into the hall and disappearing around the corner with his tail held high in the air.

Edrissa waited patiently for Sam to steady themself. Drawing in deep breaths as they did—

For a maddening moment, they squeezed their eyes shut, desperate for relief, because Gray said deep breathing helped with pain and it _did,_ a little, but with every breath, they felt like their ribs were cracking open all over again. They leaned over and wrapped their arm around their chest, gently bracing, waiting for the nausea to pass. Two weeks, _two weeks,_ and they had barely gotten their strength up enough to stand up without blacking out. With each inhale, it eased, settling down in their body like silt in water.

“Um…” Sam looked up at Edrissa as she folded her hands in front of her. “I… we… don’t have to. We don’t have to go walk. I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Yeah, um… maybe later,” Sam gasped, embarrassment crawling into their chest and making a home there.

“Yeah.” Edrissa drifted back a step, then another. “Um… I guess I’ll, um—”

“But I—” The words tumbled out of Sam’s mouth, then stopped dead as Edrissa’s eyes flicked up to theirs. “I… would still like to hang out, though. Maybe just… sitting? In the yard?”

Edrissa’s eyes flicked to the floor, and she grinned. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’ll, um… you want to go out there, find a spot that’s comfortable? I’m make some, um, tea. Chamomile. It’s nice. Have you had it?”

Sam nodded, warmth bubbling up in their chest and spreading to every limb. “Yeah,” they said as they shuffled forward. They crossed the threshold to their room and into the hallway. Edrissa seemed to heave a sigh of relief as they walked down the hall with her.

“I’ll be right out,” Edrissa said as they passed the kitchen. She went to the cabinets and opened one. “I already know your favorite mug,” she said, a blush right on the heels of the last word.

Sam blushed, too. _Why do I feel like such an_ idiot? _She’s just being nice._

_Even if she wasn’t—_

They shook their head and kept walking through the laundry room and out the back door, tilting their head back to let the afternoon sun warm their face. It couldn’t have been later than four, and the air was still warm enough to be outside without a jacket. Their thick sweater held off the chill.

The clean, fresh air seemed to blow away the clinging film of Sam’s pain, winding over and through their skin, but still fading where the sun touched them. The wind moved through their curls like fingers, and they shivered.

_Maybe it’s time for a haircut._

They glanced around the yard, taking in the brown grass, bits of bright green springing up in patches all over. A planter box against the side of the house held freshly-turned earth and little bundles of herb plants. Edrissa had told everyone what they were at dinner a few days ago, and Sam had listened intently as they watched her wispy blonde hair fall around her shoulders. Sam smiled at the flash of memory:

_“They might not make it, because I planted them so late. But they’re good plants. Tanya knows her stuff and she kept them really healthy. There’s spearmint, peppermint, lemongrass, I tried some lavender, too, and some basil, but I think it might die, it’s just so cool and dry up here… but I think I can keep it healthy, at least. And there’s rosemary, too, and I thought about getting dill but it grows like a weed and I just don’t like how it_ smells, _but if anyone wants dill I can get some…”_

She’d looked around then, her eyes settling on Sam last. Everyone had shaken their heads, murmuring _no, thanks, Edrissa_ and _that all sounds great._

Someone had moved a strange sort of rocking couch outside, suspended from a frame and shaded by a canvas top. Sam gently eased themself down and leaned back against the weathered cushions. The chair swung slowly as they pushed with their feet, forward, back. Forward, back. The motion soothed the pain still trembling under their skin. They watched the trees that ringed the lake sway in the breeze, the birds that zig-zagged through the air, snapping up the insects that hovered in swarms over the shallow parts of the lake…

They perked up at the sound of the screen door swinging open and turned to see Edrissa carefully making her way over to them, a steaming cup in each hand. She grinned as she approached Sam. She glanced around, chewing on her lip.

“I… if you want to watch these, I’ll go get a table we can set these on… there’s a plastic table around the side of the house, I think the last people here were going to throw it away, but…” She glanced at the cushion beside Sam. “Could you just make sure these don’t spill? I’ll be right back.” She set them down on the cushion, and Sam gently braced them upright with their left hand as she wandered around the side of the house and out of sight.

The heat of the mugs tingled in Sam’s hand and moved up into their chest. Their heart fluttered as Edrissa reappeared, carrying a small table that looked the perfect height to be set right in front of the rocking couch to hold the cups. Sam grinned at the blanket of warmth that settled over them at the thought of how _nice_ this was: outside, in the breeze, with nice hot tea, and Edrissa—

Their whole body spasmed with a blinding flash of light and searing fire through their wound. They knocked over one of the mugs and it spilled, steaming, over the cushion. They choked on their air, gasping.

_“Shit!”_ Edrissa hissed, and dropped the table in front of the seat. She snatched up the mugs and carefully set them both on the table – out of Sam’s reach.

_Stupid. Stupid._

“It’s okay,” Edrissa said quickly. She grabbed the cushion and tilted it, sending the tea, still sending up wisps of steam, trickling to the ground. “These cushions are weather-proof. See?” She flipped the cushion over and sat down on the dry side, a nervous smile on her face. “See? It’s fine. I just…” She glanced at the table, at the two mugs; one full, one mournfully empty. “I just need to make another cup of tea.” She moved to get up.

“You don’t have to,” Sam gasped between breaths, desperate to pull in a slow, even inhale. “I just, um, wanted to spend some time with you anyway. The tea is, is fine.” Sweat suddenly dampened their skin, and they flushed, just as Edrissa looked down.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Um. I can, um…” She looked at the cup of tea, then back to Sam, then back to the tea. “We could, um… share…?”

Sam leaned against the back of the seat and smiled through the ebbing pain. “Yeah,” they rasped. “Sounds, um, good.”

Edrissa’s lips pulled into a contented smile. She leaned forward and took the full cup, and offered it to Sam.

“No, you have a sip,” Sam breathed, trembling with relief as the nausea that had swept through them with the pain started to ebb. “Give me a, a sec.”

Edrissa brought the cup to her lips and inhaled slowly, her eyes sliding closed. “I love chamomile,” she whispered. “It reminds me of… um…” Her eyes opened, and Sam could see tears glittering in them. “…of home. A long time ago.” She took a sip and held the cup in her lap, her hands wrapping around it. She kept her eyes down as Sam took in a breath and let it out through their trembling lips. In, out. In, out. They were grateful for even the slight privacy of her averted gaze. Their pain was on display every moment of the day, it felt like. But right now…

Right now, it felt like Edrissa just… existed next to Sam’s pain. Not ignoring it, not fixating on it, just… letting it be. As present, and as unbothersome, as the steam rising from the mug in Edrissa’s hands.

Gratitude for her prickled Sam’s heart.

Slowly, slowly, the pain faded back to the faint burn it always was. Sam adjusted their seat and looked at Edrissa. She raised her eyes to them and smiled.

“Th-thanks,” Sam said weakly. “I… I’d love a sip now.”

Edrissa’s smile grew wider as she held out the mug, carefully holding it by the sides and letting Sam’s good hand wrap around the handle. The raised the cup to their lips and breathed in the floral, earthy smell, so delicate the wind could blow it away. They sipped the tea slowly, one part of their mind focused there, one part locked onto the pain in their arm, like always, and one part…

One part on how close Edrissa was. Closer than she had gotten to anyone else who wasn’t Vera and Tori.

They raised their gaze to Edrissa’s again. Her hair floated around her face on the breeze, rising, falling, the sun bringing it to an almost white-gold where it floated into its reach. Her gaze dropped to their chest, then down, to her lap.

“Sam, I…” She chewed her lip again, shifting uncomfortably, her fingers lacing together. Sam handed her the mug, just to give her something to hold on to, something to help calm her, whatever had suddenly made her so anxious. She took it with a grateful smile and stared at it in her hands. “I…”

Sam waited, patiently. A million things that she could possibly want to say flew through their mind at once, things they _hoped_ she was going to say… but they pushed those away and forced themself to hold still, breathe slowly.

“Sam, I, uh…” She reached over and set the mug down on the table in front of them, and wrapped her arms around herself. “I…” She drew in a deep breath, as if gathering strength. Her cheeks blushed a painful-looking red. “I really like you.”

Joy and relief so sharp they could cut themself on it stabbed through Sam’s chest. “Oh,” they breathed.

“And I…” Edrissa pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned her shoulder against the back of the seat, turned towards Sam, her eyes still down. “But I… I understand if… I mean… I don’t know if I—”

“I don’t care,” Sam said quietly, and bit their tongue for interrupting.

Edrissa snuck a glance up at them, going an even deeper shade of red. Her lips curved into a shy smile before it crumpled. “I want, um…” She huddled against the seat. “I don’t want to, to have, um, sex.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said, nodding. “That’s okay. That’s totally, totally fine.”

“I want to, um…” Edrissa wet her lips, and Sam couldn’t help but stare at them for a moment. “I want to try something.”

“Oh, god,” Sam whispered. They buried their face in their hand. “Oh, god. I didn’t mean, oh _god,_ I meant, I mean, I didn’t mean I didn’t _want_ that, I guess I just mean…” They trailed off into a whine as Edrissa turned her eyes on them. They were so blue, almost _grey,_ like ice, but so _warm._ Sam could get lost in there, if Edrissa would let them. They could stare at her for hours. Now that they knew she liked them, now that they _knew_ …

“Um…” Sam could hear Edrissa’s gulp. “I’d like to, um… k-kiss you.”

“Y-yesplease,” Sam said in a rush, nearly tripping over themself to get the words out.

Edrissa’s mouth twisted. “But I… I don’t want you to, um… touch me… places.” The tension in Edrissa’s body changed, the muscles tightening not in anticipation of the kiss, but of something much darker. It turned Sam’s stomach that Edrissa even had to fear those terrible things, and that she feared it from _them_ … But that wasn’t her fault at all. Not even a little bit.

“Y-you can touch me on my, um, my arms, or my back, maybe, and I, I like it when people touch my face, but… n-not…” She shuddered, all the tentative joy in her face gone. “I don’t want you to touch me on my legs. Or… or my stomach. Or my chest. Or m-my, my…” She swallowed, and it sounded painful and raw. “Or my—”

“I think I get it,” Sam murmured, their eyes moving over her. “I think… I won’t touch you… I won’t touch any of your, um… private parts.”

Edrissa gasped in a breath, whimpering and covering her face in shame. “I’m… sorry…”

“Edrissa, no,” Sam murmured, shifting forward. “I… it’s okay. I want to listen. Will you let me, um… listen? To, to what you need?”

Edrissa peeked out over the top of her hands, her eyes welling with tears. “I… And I don’t want to feel your, um, tongue. I don’t want your tongue in my mouth.”

“That’s fine,” Sam breathed, feeling… _relieved._ They’d never been with anyone who’d spelled out what they wanted so clearly before. They’d always had to fumble around, hoping to trip over something the other person liked, hoping to avoid things they didn’t, never really knowing _for sure_ that they were doing it right…

But these rules were simple. Easy to remember. _No touching anything but arms, back, and face. No tongue._ Simple. Easy.

“Can I t-touch your, your…” Sam’s eyes drifted to Edrissa’s neck, where they noticed for the first time scars that they recognized all too well, marks in the exact same pattern they all wore, now: _a collar._ Edrissa’s neck was covered in thin, pale lines and patches of skin where she’d worn it away entirely, long-healed. Sam met her eyes again. “Never mind. Won’t touch your neck.”

“Oh, no, please…” One hand drifted up to her neck, and she gently brushed the marks on her throat. “Please don’t…”

“Anything else?” Sam said, aching to lean closer, to brush their lips against hers, against her cheek…

“I, um…” She played with a thin strand of hair, framing her face, making her look like…

Making her look beautiful.

“I don’t think so.”

Sam drew in a shaky breath. “Okay,” they whispered, and leaned forward. They reached up and cupped her cheek, stroking their thumb along her cheekbone, marveling at how _soft_ her skin was.

They wanted to see if her lips were that soft.

They leaned closer, and Edrissa moved forward as well, her eyes locked with Sam’s, hypnotic and beautiful. Sam’s mind wouldn’t stop repeating _she’s so pretty, she’s so pretty, she’s so pretty_ in a dizzying loop…

They touched their forehead gently to hers. Their eyes slid shut, and they could feel her breath trembling on their face. They paused, waiting… waiting for her to pull away, to bolt, to decide she didn’t want this. They hoped, desperately, that she wouldn’t, but…

As gently as a butterfly’s wing, she brushed her lips against theirs, pressing for just a moment… and pulled back.

A dizzying wave of tingling heat crashed through Sam. They sighed, and they knew they were smiling like an idiot.

They were about to ask if it was okay, if she _liked_ it, when…

She leaned in and kissed Sam harder, her mouth closed and warm against theirs. They nearly, _so_ very nearly parted their lips to invite her to taste their mouth, but— They were seized with a moment of panic and kept their lips firmly closed.

Still, they could smell the chamomile she’d been sipping, and the sweet, floral smell of her hair – _she buys her shampoo from that nice lady in Burmingham, and she says it smells like peonies_ – and they melted against the softness of her lips, the warmth of her cheek against their palm. After a breath, after a moment, she pulled away, her eyes still closed, before she opened them again, and Sam was drowning in the blue of her eyes again – _she’s so pretty, she’s so pretty, why am I acting like an idiot, oh god, she’s so pretty_ – and she smiled.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her lips pink from the kiss.

“You’re welcome,” Sam mumbled… like an _idiot._ They winced as embarrassment stung their skin. They let their hand fall.

Edrissa laughed, and the sound was like music, and it was beautiful, and Sam was only vaguely aware of how they were falling head over heels for her, and they probably looked so _stupid_ right now.

“Will you, um, kiss me again?” Edrissa said, looking up at them from under her lashes.

Sam lurched forward and kissed her again. She sighed and brought up both hands to cup Sam’s face, sliding back until they tangled in their hair.


	31. Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You?

Ellis lurched forward, their hand covering their mouth where they sat hunched over the puzzle. They leapt to their feet and dashed from the living room.

Finn stared after them, concern pinching their mouth. They glanced at Vera where she stood in the kitchen, framed by the half-wall, a cutting board full of chopped potatoes held aloft in her hand. Tori stood at the counter. Her arms wrapped tightly around her own chest and she shrank slightly towards Vera. She looked towards the bathroom. Her eyes were fogged and distant, and her lips pressed into a thin, nervous line.

Not Tori’s worst day. At least she knew where she was today.

Finn got to their feet and made their way across the living room and down the hall towards the bedrooms, pausing just outside the bathroom door as Ellis vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Oh, babe,” Finn murmured, dropping to their knees beside Ellis and gently pulling back their short black hair from their face. “I’m so sorry.”

Ellis dry-heaved, their stomach empty after throwing up on and off for the past two days. They groaned, slumping against the toilet seat. Finn smoothed back Ellis’s sweaty hair with one hand and rubbed their back with the other.

“What the _fuck,_ ” Ellis groaned. They reached for the handle and flushed the toilet. They got up on one knee and pushed themself to their feet. Finn helped to stabilize them as they leaned over the sink and washed their mouth out.

“I’m sorry,” Finn said softly, gently rubbing their hands up and down Ellis’s arms. “I don’t know what it is… Maybe it was something you ate, but… we’ve been eating the same stuff…”

“It’s fine,” Ellis said, already sounding better. “I think that was the last of it. Although, that’s what I thought _yesterday_ …” They drew their hand over their face. It still shone with sweat, but the color was back in their cheeks. “Sorry that’s so gross.”

“I’ll try and get more Zofran from town tomorrow,” Finn murmured, and drew Ellis into a hug. “Although I hope this is over by then.”

“Probably will be, babe,” Ellis said with an awkward shrug as they pulled out of Finn’s grasp. They gave Finn a tired smile and walked out of the bathroom, back towards the living room. “I really am feeling a lot better.” Finn followed right behind.

“Still feeling sick?” Tori said. Her voice sounded thin, frightened, but… Finn heard the shadow of the person she was before. Ever since they escaped, Tori had been slowly, slowly emerging from the wasteland that had been made of her mind. She had only been able to be coaxed out by two people: Vera, and Ellis. Under the fear, Finn could hear the person who’d kept them all safe and cared for them for months as they all recovered from Gavin. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her muscles pulled tight under her skin. Always ready to run. Always ready to hide, or just stand there and take the shocks.

Three weeks later, and she still had days where she waited for the shocks. Finn blinked and shook their head to clear it.

“Yeah,” Ellis griped as they crossed to the couch and sat down again. They pulled the blanket around their shoulders and took a sip of their tea.

Vera covered the pot on the stove and turned it down to a low heat. She walked to Tori’s side and wound an arm around her waist, looking into the living room at Ellis. A wry smile twisted her mouth. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pregnant.”

Finn froze. Ellis’s head snapped up and they stared at them with wide eyes.

_“Oh, fuck,”_ Finn breathed.

The silence pounded in Finn’s ears.

“F-Finn,” Ellis whispered. “I _am_ late. I thought it was just the, um, the stress, but…” Their hand drifted to their stomach and rested there, almost unconsciously. Their mouth hung open, their eyes unfocused. “Yeah,” they rasped. “I’m a week late.”

The room lurched around Finn, and they thought _they_ might throw up.

“But I…” Finn stared at Ellis, dumbfounded. “But we…” They thought back over the last three weeks, the sex they’d had every day – multiple times a day, in every position they could think of and a few Finn had never even heard of before – since they and Ellis had been reunited. They’d gone through several boxes of condoms, blushingly having to go ask Gray to bring them more with every trip into town. They’d worn a condom _every single time._ Finn fell back a step, looking up in confusion as the walls moved around them, zooming out and zooming in at the same time.

A bolt of realization hit them and they met Ellis’s eyes, and Finn knew they were having the exact same thought.

_“The first morning,”_ they said at the exact same time.

“Oh, god,” Finn whimpered, tearing their hands through their hair. “Oh, god, oh, _fuck,_ I, I don’t…”

“Holy shit,” Ellis whispered from the couch.

Finn couldn’t focus their eyes. There wasn’t enough air in the room. “Oh, god, oh, what if I, if I, oh _god,_ I don’t know how to, to be a fucking, _parent,_ Ellis, what are we gonna _do,_ I… oh, holy _fuck_ …”

Ellis appeared in front of them, and Finn clutched at their arms. “Oh, Ellis, is this… is this okay? I’m sorry, I… I didn’t… _mean_ to…”

Their eyes focused, and they realized Ellis was grinning. More than that, their joy was _radiating_ off of them, crinkling their eyes, pulling their lips into the biggest smile Finn had ever seen on Ellis. Suddenly, tears were streaming down Finn’s face.

“Oh, god,” they babbled, sobbing in Ellis’s arms without being sure when they actually started crying. “Oh g-god, Ellis, we, we talked about it… so long ago, and I know that… so much happened, and I don’t… I never… I didn’t think it would, would _happen,_ and, oh, god, are we ready?” Finn fumbled for Ellis’s hands and they squeezed. Ellis’s hands were so warm, and Finn realized their hands were freezing. “I mean, is this… do we… I mean, a _baby?_ Oh, Jesus Christ, I… I don’t know how to…”

“Finn,” Ellis said gently, tilting Finn’s chin up until they met their eyes. “Shhh.”

“Do we even have the, the _facilities?_ I mean, risk of complication is—” Finn cut themself off with a choke, paling, their eyes going wide and staring sightlessly at Ellis. “No. No no no no no no it’s okay, it’s okay, it’ll be okay, oh my _god,_ delivering babies is a BLS skill, delivering babies is a BLS skill…” Suddenly, ridiculously, a perfect recall of Finn’s OBGYN chapter in medic education training flashed across their vision. A cross-section diagram of a uterus, the baby drawn almost comically placid as it slid out of a disembodied pelvis – _squeezing a bowling ball out of a garden hose,_ their mother used to say. Finn felt a sudden lash of grief, thinking about their mother and the eternal question: _is she still alive?_

Then, just opposite of that diagram was an actual picture of a woman giving birth, a tiny head looking absolutely massive as it poked out from between the woman’s legs, steadied in the doctor’s hands like they were handling a football. Instructor Grant had told them to skip that chapter, since it wasn’t _relevant to combat medicine_ … but the students had flipped to it just the same, with giggles and groans as their friends whispered _‘oh my god, there’s a naked woman on page 278’_ , only to discover that, yes, she was naked, but she was also pushing out a bloody, purple, wrinkled baby head, who looked very upset about the whole thing.

_Oh, god. I should have read that chapter. I should have read that chapter and not just looked and gotten grossed out. Oh, god, oh god, oh god, oh god…_

“Finn,” Ellis murmured, and gently took Finn’s hand. They laid it gently against their abdomen, right over where the baby was growing. Just a zygote, really. Probably no bigger than a few hundred cells right now, _maybe_ the size of a grain of sand. _Maybe? God, why don’t I know this?_

As Finn’s hand settled against Ellis, gently pressing against the waistband of their sweatpants, Finn stopped. Every breath, every thought, every fucking cell of blood in their veins froze in place. They could feel the warmth of Ellis’s skin through the fabric, but more than that: it was as if that little bundle of cells, that baby, _Finn’s baby,_ was shining through, reaching its little light out for Finn, shining warmth and strength and love right into their hand and into their body. The baby inside Ellis, _their baby._

Finn crumpled to their knees and wrapped their arms around Ellis’s legs.

They sobbed against Ellis’s stomach, pressing kisses against the waistband of their pants. Finn’s face shone a smile, joy flooding through them, so hot and sharp it was almost painful. Ellis’s fingers stroked through Finn’s hair and Finn leaned their cheek against Ellis’s stomach, happy tears streaming down their cheeks and soaking into the hem of Ellis’s shirt.

Ellis tilted Finn’s head up, and Finn nearly crumpled again at the look of disbelief, of fierce joy, as Ellis looked down at them. It was as if years had been shaken off their face, as if, for a moment, the pain that laced through every moment of their life was lifted.

“We made a baby,” Finn rasped, their voice breaking.

“We made a baby,” Ellis whispered back. Then they laughed, and the sound went through Finn like a knife, and they loved the ache.

Finn glanced towards the kitchen. Vera stood motionless in the doorway. One arm wrapped around Tori’s waist, and her other hand covered her mouth. Her eyes streamed tears she looked at Ellis, then Finn, then Ellis again.

Tori’s eyes were focused, her shoulders squared, her hands laced under her chin. Her eyes shone as she looked at Ellis. Then, slowly, she stepped out of the protective circle of Vera’s embrace, and walked to Ellis’s side. Finn stumbled to their feet and swayed, dizzy.

Tori placed her hands on either side of Ellis’s face, her smile matching theirs. Their hands went gently around Tori’s wrists and they laughed together a moment. Tori didn’t shrink or cringe away, but _laughed,_ quiet joy cutting through the fog of pain that shrouded her every day. Her eyes focused entirely on Ellis, and Ellis on her. The moment hung in the air, suspended, like a glass just before it shatters on the floor. Finn sucked in a breath, waiting for the crash.

It never came. Tori threw her arms around Ellis and held them as they wept.

They felt Vera at their side and they jumped. They turned to her, stunned. Vera practically tackled them in a hug.

“Congratulations,” she murmured, and she choked up on the word.

_“Oh my god,”_ Finn whined softly, grinning, gasping for breath.

Vera pulled away, and Tori folded into Finn’s embrace. “I’m so happy for you,” she said softly, her voice warm, steady, and even. As she leaned back, Finn’s mouth bobbed open and closed, grinning like a fool.

Then Ellis was back in their arms, and they stayed. Ellis squeezed Finn tight, nearly crushing them in their embrace, as if they were an anchor against the roaring tide in their ears. Ellis was in their arms, living, breathing, here, alive, _pregnant_. For three weeks, Finn had been in agony, trapped with their family but alone. For three weeks, they’d been helpless, _useless,_ branded as a _medic_ while the rest were collared and tortured as _playthings._ It was as if Finn could feel the scar on their brain.

But Ellis… Ellis was _here._ Ellis was alive. Finn pulled back and stared at them dazedly, disbelieving. Their hands locked around Ellis’s shirt as they pulled them closer, pressing their foreheads together so hard it almost hurt. A tear fell from their chin and into their shirt.

Finn wet their lips. “I…” Ellis leaned back, that smile still so radiant, so _beautiful._ Finn blinked. “I hope it looks like you. I hope… oh… I hope it has your eyes.”

“I hope it has your brain,” Ellis said softly, and kissed them on the nose. “God knows we need another genius in this family.” Ellis laughed, and there was no snark, no anger.

Finn giggled, their voice shooting up an octave. “Oh,” they whimpered. They thumbed away the tears on Ellis’s cheeks. There was something rising in their throat, words that they could barely comprehend. Words they’d never _once_ imagined in this order:

“I’m gonna be a dad,” they whispered.

Ellis’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah, babe,” they said, and cradled Finn’s face. “You are. You’re gonna be a dad.”


	32. Mugged

_Years ago_

In the concealment of the near-darkness behind a dumpster, Ellis stood perfectly still. A light mist fell from the sky, dampening the hood over their head, casting their face in shadow.

Their hand wrapped tightly around the gun shoved deep into the pocket of their jacket. They rubbed their thumb gently against the edge of the trigger guard, the cold metal comforting them. Back, forth. Back, forth. The gun was what brought them peace, brought them _justice_. Every time they used it.

They tipped their head back and shivered at the cold mist of water on their face. They were soaked to the bone, now, having been standing in the shadow of that alley for hours. Waiting. Just waiting.

They weren’t sure why they still wore a hood. Maybe it made them feel safer, feel more anonymous. Maybe it made them braver, during the muggings.

It didn’t really matter, in the end. No one survived their muggings anyway. Just a simple crime gone wrong, everyone would think. ‘ _Who could do this? What kind of monster?’_ they all probably thought.

_I’m the monster you made when you murdered my family._

Eight months. For eight months, they’d been alone, walking through the world feeling their family’s blood smeared on their skin, the smell as strong as if the blood really did cling to their clothes. For eight months they’d been tormented by their own mind when it supplied how much their family must have _screamed_ and suffered. And now… Christopher was gone, Chloe and Galen were… were _gone,_ but every day their deaths stung like a new wound. Stabbed in the heart, over and over and _over._ They murdered Ellis that day, too. They just weren’t dead yet.

The muggings were the only thing that made them sane. They were the only thing that brought them back from that edge, when they’d find the gun in their hand and pointed at their own head. Doing this was the only thing that kept the voice in their head quiet enough to be ignored, the voice that urged them to drink enough that they wouldn’t wake up, to step out into traffic, to pull the trigger on themself. The muggings were what kept them alive.

And yet… they couldn’t make themself think of them as executions. If anything, they were retribution, tilting the scales of the world a little more balanced. Ellis couldn’t find justice for their family, so they’d settle by bringing justice to the people who murdered them.

They’d been standing in the alley for hours. They couldn’t risk doing this in a well-travelled location. The point was dread. The point was _fear,_ the syndicate fuckers finding their people’s bodies in alleys and empty parking lots. If Ellis could make them feel just a sliver of the fear that the syndicates themselves created in the world, then it might be enough. If they killed enough syndicate people, it might eventually be enough.

Not yet, though. Nothing was enough yet.

Footsteps echoed down the alley. Two sets.

_Two dead motherfuckers._ They’d never tried to take two before. The gun in their hand had taken three lives, each one a lone syndicate member, confident in their ownership of the world. Never watching their backs.

These two would be the same. Walking down an alleyway in the north end of town, without their bodyguards. They probably thought they owned the fucking place.

_Fuck, they kinda do._

Ellis slowly, carefully pulled the gun out of their pocket. They crouched so the dumpster would conceal them for just a moment longer, waiting for the two fuckers to walk past it, so Ellis could—

They froze as they heard one of them speak.

“I don’t understand why we had to go _this way,_ mom. The clinic is just—”

“Yes, darling, the clinic is that way. But your father told you _specifically_ not to use the belt on her again. If the clinic can get her healthy again before your father returns from his trip, then it’ll be a lovely little secret between us both. But if your father’s security _sees_ you in and out of the clinic into which _his plaything_ disappeared…” A sigh. “Really, Aaron. I would have thought we _both_ taught you how to handle a whipping better than this.”

_That’s right. They’re taking people off the streets now, people who piss the syndicates off, or just look too damn pretty or maybe bleed too damn well, whatever the fuck that means…_ Ellis bit their lip and let the rage stir inside them, rise to the surface, and it never had far to go. Rumors of disappearances had been slowly becoming fact, just a part of life now that everyone _knew_ but did nothing about. Everyone had at least one story of someone they knew, or someone who knew someone they knew, disappearing one day, poof, gone. Only to wind up in some fucking dumpster or the bottom of the river, with marks of abuse and torture that made Ellis’s stomach turn. They couldn’t go a week without hearing another report of someone who’d gone missing months or years ago turning up dead, covered in scars, and _branded._

_Poor fucks. It’s slavery, it’s fucking_ torture _and these lunatics call it_ playing.

The man – it sounded like a _young_ man, and the woman spoke to him with a long-suffering air – drew closer to Ellis’s hiding spot. Their shoes clicked on the wet cement, his a low, resounding sound and hers a high, delicate one. Ellis could hear the soft hiss of rain is it fell on his coat. Their hand tightened around the gun and they blew a slow, silent breath out through their open mouth.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have _whipped_ the fucking thing if you gave me one of my own. Everyone my age—”

“You can have one when you’ve proven you can properly _maintain one,_ darling. If you continue to break your father’s toys—”

Vile, bitter rage swept through Ellis. They stepped out of the shadows.

The woman gasped and jumped back, looking down her nose at Ellis like they were… _trash._ Scum. Looking like Ellis like they were the type of thing she could take, use up, and dispose of and think nothing of it.

The young man, on the other hand, looked at Ellis with a burning _hunger_ in his eyes. He looked eighteen, maybe twenty. A shock of pale blond hair was dampened and flat against his head, the exact same shade as his mother’s. Each of them wore a long coat with the collar pulled up against the cold wind and rain, each costing more than Ellis had had to eat in the past _month._

“Step aside,” the woman said primly, but Ellis could hear her voice was trembling. Ellis raised the gun and her eyes went wide, fixed on the barrel. Her son fell back a step and then froze, and the terror on his face was…

Ellis swallowed dryly. If they could stare at the terror in his eyes for the rest of their life, it still wouldn’t be long enough.

“Wh-what…” The woman shuddered and her eyes flicked up to Ellis’s face. For a moment a chill of fear drew a cold finger down their back.

_She’s never going to tell anyone what I look like._

The boy finally moved and Ellis slowly moved the gun to point at him. He shifted forward a half step, drawing closer to his mother… and then stepping in front of her.

“Aaron, _no,_ ” she whimpered, but she was frozen with fear. Ellis may as well have been pinning her down.

“M-mom,” he said, his hands shaking, before he drew himself upright, glaring Ellis down. They could _see_ the mantle of power he was trying to draw around him, could _see_ him struggling to be in control.

That’s who the syndicates were. Constantly in control.

“B-back off,” the boy said, and Ellis laughed in his face.

“You one of those _fucks_ who plays with people?” they sneered, their hand tightening around the gun. “You one of those sick fucks that tortures people? You kill people, kid? Rape people?”

All at once, the fear dropped away, and malicious, arrogant self-satisfaction rushed up to replace it. The boy’s face became a mask of contempt. “They’re not _people_ by the time I’m done with them, you fucking—”

_BANG._

The bullet punched through the boy’s chest and flung him back against his mother. She screamed as blood spattered her face and they both slumped to the wet pavement.

_“AARON!”_ she shrieked as he fell on top of her, pinning her under his weight. He choked for a moment, his eyes rolling sightlessly in his head before he convulsed, once, and died on top of his mother.

The woman wailed in horror as Ellis took a step closer, her fingers digging into the thick wool of his coat. _“Aaron, NO!”_ She sobbed raggedly and looked up to Ellis. Ellis took another step forward until they were standing just beside the mother. Hate blazed in her eyes, and grief, and _everything else_ that had made a home inside Ellis since their children were taken from them.

_How does it feel, syndicate fucker?_

_“You killed him!”_ she sobbed. “You… you fucking _bitch,_ you fucking… _creature!_ I will _tear you apart!_ ”

Her pain filled them up, _fed_ them. Their skin was on _fire_ with it.

The woman screamed helplessly, and even through the rain, Ellis could smell the puddle of blood that was rapidly spilling out over the ground. Her face twisted in her agony and her voice echoed off the walls of the alley. _“I will kill you! I WILL KILL YOU!”_

“Naw, don’t think so,” Ellis said, and held the gun to the woman’s head. They watched her eyes as they pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore through the woman’s head and her skull slammed against the rain-slicked pavement. Blood colored the water.

Ellis’s bones _ached_ with vicious retribution. Their hands shook as they tucked the gun back into their jacket. They couldn’t tear their eyes away from the woman lying splayed on the ground, pinned underneath her son. Her son, who not thirty seconds earlier had been talking about whipping some poor woman somewhere half to death just because he wanted his own “toy”.

_There’s no hell deep enough for you people._

Ellis knelt down to complete the last part of their ritual. They slid a hand inside the boy’s coat and pulled out a cell phone and his wallet – and took the gold watch from his wrist as well. Then they heaved the boy off his mother like he was so much dead weight. Ellis pocketed the woman’s wallet, too. They stood and looked over the two dead syndicate members, their stomach starting to heave with the smell of blood, the sight of the dead, soulless eyes. It always came, after. The sickness. They refused to think of it as _guilt._ They turned and ran.

Rain pattered on the top of their hood, spraying their face, clearing their mind. Slowly, the bloodlust faded from their body. Slowly, they became human again, not the monster the syndicates had made. They ran across intersections, barely looking to see if the cars had stopped. They passed street signs, lights, restaurants that sold steaks covered in fucking gold while people starved just outside. The embargoes the syndicates had put on the cities were more like a _siege._ Only food, fuel, and medical supplies destined for syndicate homes, syndicate people, were allowed in. Everything else – you better fucking pray you have a good connection in the black market. Six weeks, it had been like this, and would be until the mayor decided to step down and give in to the syndicates’ demands.

They ran until their legs ached and their lungs burned. They ran until they didn’t know where they were anymore.

They slowed to a stop, leaning hard against the gray, featureless wall of an industrial building. They couldn’t hear the rush of traffic anymore. They heard only the dim hum of electricity, and the distant clanking of heavy machinery. The slid down the wall and sat with their back against it, rain soaking through the seat of their pants. They pulled out the wallets and looked through them.

The woman – Sherise Lawton, according to her ID – had three different credit cards tucked into the folds of her wallet. A picture was tucked into one pocket, one of her, her son, and a man Ellis assumed was her husband. It was an old picture. The kid looked barely ten years old. Ellis swallowed hard against a sudden wave of nausea and moved on.

A membership card to an exclusive gym downtown. A business card for an interior decorator. A receipt that had been handled so many times Ellis couldn’t make out what it was for. Six thousand units of… something, in cash. Ellis didn’t recognize the money. Ice clutched their chest, just another piece of evidence that the syndicates were taking everything: the government, the money, the schools, their fucking _safety._

_Safety doesn’t matter anymore. Everything I ever wanted to keep safe is gone._

Ellis pocketed the money and tossed the rest of it down the sidewalk. They opened the boy’s wallet.

They never looked past the first pocket. They pulled out the boy’s ID, his picture smiling, proud, _excited._

_Galen and Chloe could have had this. They could have had their first driver’s license, too._ They shivered and pressed their hand to their mouth. Their eyes suddenly burned.

Their eyes flicked to the boy’s birth date. _May 24, 2006._

It felt like a fist twisted in Ellis’s gut. Frantically, they tried to think of what day it was… but they could barely think of the _year._ Their heart pounded in their chest and their hands shook as they clutched the ID card.

  1. _It’s 2022._



_This boy was sixteen years old._

The ID fell from Ellis’s grip as they crumpled back against the wall, their chest heaving with sobs. _He was sixteen. He was sixteen and I killed him. I murdered a sixteen-year-old._ Ellis smashed their fist against their mouth, trying to muffle the strangled sobs that came from deep inside them.

Across town, a few miles away, there was a sixteen-year old kid lying dead in an alley with his blood staining his mother’s clothes. With a bullet from _Ellis’s gun_ buried in his chest. Ellis lurched forward and vomited up everything they’d eaten that day, and kept heaving, choking as nothing came up but sour bile. They slumped onto their knees and covered their head with their arms, shaking violently, as the world lurched sickeningly around them. The rain fell harder, soaking their clothes.


	33. For The Greater Good/Field Medicine

_Finn touched the bandage on their arm, and even the feather-light pressure sent a spike of pain exploding through the wound on their arm. The_ brand. _They were_ branded, _like a damned animal. Like_ property. _The burn on their arm throbbed like a hot coal was being held there – or a hot branding iron. The skin itched, and the feeling was like fire. They wanted to tear the ruined flesh from their arm, just to get the damned mark_ off _of them._

_The urge, still. It was like an unbearable pressure, a_ compulsion, _to look again. To look at the mark that had been seared into them hours ago, marking them as Stormbeck chattel. The others were playthings: there to be used, and hurt, and discarded when Colleen was done with them. The others were bodies for Colleen to break. Finn was exactly what Gavin had said they were, all those months ago: a brain and a pair of hands, and a body to drive it all around. Finn served a purpose. Finn was_ useful.

_At least that’s what the guard had said when they’d dragged them out of their cell and pressed a red-hot piece of iron to their forearm, burning the skin until Finn was sure they’d gone down to the bone._

_They stared at the wall and wondered if Ellis was alive. They wondered how long it would take for them to be the only one of their family left. They wondered how long Colleen would keep them after that._

Finn shivered in their shorts and tank top. They looked over the things littering the table in front of them, an old plastic one they’d helped carry from the yard into the bathroom at the back of the house. It wasn’t much: gauze, alcohol, bandages, all looking pristine in the fluorescent light fixed to the ceiling.

They couldn’t bring themself to look at the razor sitting beside the other supplies. They gulped and stared at their hands, twisting their fingers together, squeezing so tightly their knuckles went white. They glanced up at Vera as she walked in and stopped at Ellis’s side.

“Everyone out of the house?” Finn said weakly.

Vera bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Sam and Edrissa are out walking the lake, and T-Tori is, um…” She smoothed the pad of her thumb along her jaw, her eyes going distant for just a moment. “Tori is walking down the lane a bit. Just seeing what’s there.”

“Good,” Finn murmured. They blinked slowly. “Gavin?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Vera said with a rush of breath. “He’s not in his room, not in Isaac’s, not anywhere in the house.” She shrugged. “He’s around. He’ll show up again.”

“Once he needs something,” Ellis said tightly. Finn looked down at the floor.

“With Isaac and Gray out, I don’t blame him for wanting some time, um, away,” Finn said, and their gaze drifted to the razor. “He was trapped in the Crayton house for—”

“I don’t want to talk about what Gavin has been through when he’s part of the reason we’re doing _this,_ ” Ellis said, tears swimming in their eyes.

The defense rose up in Finn, the words stinging their tongue: _Not his fault. He had no choice. He was a prisoner, too. He was tortured, too. He was ready to die for us._ Tried _to die for us, like Vera said._ They met Ellis’s eyes and the words died in their throat.

_They never saw any of that. All they saw was white walls and Colleen’s face when she told them I was dead._

“Whatever,” Finn murmured. “He’s around. He’ll come back.”

“Why shouldn’t we make him watch—”

“Ellis, _please,_ ” Finn huffed. Their hands shook, and they squeezed them together, hard. “Let’s just… get this done.”

They’d spent all day yesterday looking through the book of emergency medicine Gray had brought them from Crayton. There was plenty of information about how to treat _acute_ burns: remove the thing causing it, remove surrounding clothing and jewelry, dress the burn in sterile gauze, give fluids… _was it 20 mL/kg in the first eight hours? Or the first four?_ They shook their head. _Doesn’t matter._

It didn’t matter, because the book didn’t contain any information on how to repair a burn once it had already healed. There was no information on how to reduce scarring, or heal a burn completely.

Simple solution: cut it off. Or, at least, cut enough that the brand was unrecognizable.

_I still get to keep the scar._

Vera’s mouth hardened into a line as she stepped forward. Her eyes moved over the little table and the tools that sat on it. Then she raised her gaze to Finn. They shivered at the blankness that flashed through her eyes, for just a moment.

They wet their lips. “Thank you for doing this,” they rasped.

“Of course,” Vera mumbled, her lips trembling. “You’ve done so… so much. For us.”

Finn looked at Ellis where they stood behind the table, their arms crossed over their chest. Finn’s gaze dropped to look at Ellis’s stomach and warmth washed over them. _Ellis and I made something beautiful, and it’s right in front of me._ Everything Finn wanted, everything that could be, dropped away at that simple truth. _Ellis and I made a baby, and it’s already the most beautiful thing in the world. I don’t give a shit if it’s only a few thousand cells right now._

For now, though, they had work to do. Yesterday they found out there was a baby growing inside Ellis. Today they were desperate to get the brand off their skin that put their baby in harm’s way, if they were ever discovered. The thought of it sent a bolt of terror scalding through Finn. Pain flared in the brand like it was fresh.

“Let’s do this,” Finn said, curling their hand into a fist.

Vera swallowed, and the sound filled the bathroom for a moment. Finn shifted forward and laid their right arm out across the table. They turned their palm up to the ceiling and looked at the healed scar on the inside of their forearm. A perfect circle, a little bigger than a robin’s egg. The silhouette of a raven’s head sat in the center, with vines curling around the edges. The Stormbeck family crest, marking Finn as their property. _Owned._

_“Wh-what does this mean?” Finn sobbed as the guards released them. They slumped to the floor, trembling with shock. “I… what…?” They looked at their arm, at the red, open wound of the burn. They could just make out the shape in the center. Their stomach heaved and they gagged on the smell of burnt flesh._ Their _burnt flesh._

_“What’s it look like?” one of the guards sneered. His hand shot out and closed on Finn’s collar. He jerked them upright. They clawed at the collar and cried out as the movement made the burned skin spike hotter._

_“Finn!” Sam screamed weakly. “Leave…_ leave them alone _!”_

_The guard snorted. “I’d be more worried about yourself, little one,” he said over his shoulder. Finn shuddered as he turned around again to look at Finn. “I would have thought the collars made it pretty fucking clear what you are now,_ Finn Dunham. _”_

“Parallel lines, right Finn?” Vera said softly, her finger moving gently over the brand. Her touch over the scar felt distant, as if she was touching them through a layer of cotton. _Nerve cells only exist in the dermis layer of the epithelium—_ “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Finn said, watching her finger move. “Diagonal, like that. I would but a star of life there instead, but…” They laughed tightly, the sound far too loud in the small room. “That seemed a little morbid.”

“Yeah,” Vera said, straightening. She drew herself up to her full height and crossed to the sink against the wall.

“Might be a good idea for you to wash your hands, too, Ellis,” Finn said, keeping their eyes down. “Even if you don’t touch—”

Ellis rushed to the sink and waited their turn to wash up. “Y-yeah, babe,” they whispered. “Whatever you need.”

Vera dried her hands on a paper towel and went to Finn’s side again. She chewed her lip before she finally took a seat in the chair across the table from Finn. Her gaze was fixed on the brand on their arm.

“I wish you had those, um… those rubber gloves. The sterile ones,” she said in a small voice.

Finn snorted. “Yeah, same,” they said, and laughed again so they wouldn’t whimper. “But apparently they’re fucking _hard_ to come by. Gray ordered me some. Crayton should get a shipment in a week or so, but… we’re going to have to volunteer for a while until those are paid off.”

Ellis blew out an irritated breath through their nose. “As if we haven’t paid our debt to _fucking society_ …”

“They can’t just give us free shit forever,” Finn said weakly. They eyed the razor where it sat on the table, resting lightly on a bed of sterile gauze. It glinted in the light, a cold, grey gleam.

“They absolutely can,” Ellis grumbled.

Finn’s eyes slid shut for a moment. This had to happen _now,_ before they pulled back, before they ran like a _coward_ from the razor and from the pain. They were the only one, the _only_ one, that Colleen hadn’t touched. They hadn’t even _seen_ Colleen, after the first night they were taken. They could take a little pain, now. They could take it for their family. For their _baby._

But only if it happened _right now._

“V-Vera,” they murmured. “Vera—”

“We can try something else,” she said, leaning away and lifting her hands. “We don’t have to—”

“No,” Finn said, and their voice broke. Shame burned on their cheeks. They cleared their throat. “Now. Come on.”

Vera looked at Finn for a long moment, her eyes moving back and forth between theirs. Then she leaned forward and unscrewed the cap from the bottle of alcohol. “Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s do this. Ellis, you want to—”

“Wh-wherever they want me,” Ellis said, tripping over the words. “Anything. Finn, what do you want?”

Finn held out their left hand, and flushed with embarrassment at how badly they were shaking. “Hold my hand?” they said softly. Ellis reached out and laced their fingers through Finn’s. They stood by their side at the table. They both looked to Vera.

Vera poured some alcohol out onto a square of gauze. “You _sure_ you don’t want to take some—”

“Those pills are Sam’s,” Finn said, setting their jaw. “I’m not taking them. They’re recovering from _surgery._ This is—”

“—cosmetic surgery,” Vera said, an edge to her voice as her mouth twisted in a bitter, lopsided smile. She gently pressed the gauze over the brand and cleaned it, wiping the gauze in widening circles out and out. She dropped the used gauze into the trashcan beside her. Her hands hovered over the table before she finally took the razor into her hands.

“Well, then, make me pretty,” Finn said through their teeth. “I want what I’m paying for.” They laughed, once, and the room fell into a painful silence.

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” Vera said finally. Finn raised their gaze to her and she held theirs, the razor held tightly in her hand. “I’m just saying. Like… it’s going to fucking _hurt._ ”

_You would know._

Finn nodded. “I know that,” they rasped. “It’s okay. I’m, um… r-ready.”

“Might consider taking a pill after this, then,” Vera mumbled. She gently took Finn’s wrist in one hand and steadied the razor above the brand in the other. “Ready?” she said, and the word fell heavy on Finn’s ears.

_“Ready,”_ they whispered.

Vera took in a deep breath through her nose. She blew it out slowly through her lips and brought the blade of the razor to Finn’s arm.

Finn instantly went rigid as the razor pressed against the brand, cold and sharp. Vera glanced up at them and set her mouth in a hard line. “Don’t pull away,” she croaked, her voice flat and empty.

“S-sorry,” Finn whispered. The hair on their arms stood up as Vera brought the razor to their skin again.

The razor dipped into their skin, and they hissed in a breath. _“Fuck.”_

“I know,” Vera murmured, and dragged the razor across the brand.

_“Aah, shit,”_ Finn whimpered, turning their head away. Vera cut diagonally across the corner of the brand, a short, thin line of blood. They leaned towards Ellis. Ellis dropped to their knees beside Finn and wrapped their arms around them.

“Sorry,” Vera said softly, as she finished the first line. A bead of blood appeared in the cut.

Finn stared at it, the pain stabbing into their awareness, chasing all their thoughts away. “But… will that…?”

“I can make it deeper,” Vera said, gently turning Finn’s arm to inspect the cut. “But if I make some shallow ones and you pick at them as they heal, it’ll still scar, and it won’t hurt nearly as much.”

“P-picking increases risk of infection,” Finn said dully. The words tasted metallic and bland.

Vera smiled slightly. “Yeah,” she said softly, “But since your genius ass decided to hold off on the meds, I don’t think I’ll be able to cut deep enough for it to scar on its own.”

Finn chewed their lip as they stared at the blood shining a garish red on their arm. “F-Fine,” they said softly. “I’ll do that.”

“It’s still gonna hurt like a bitch, Finn,” Vera said, razor hovering an inch above Finn’s arm.

Finn swallowed against the nausea rising in them. They blew out a steadying breath and forced themself to meet Vera’s eyes. “Ready,” they rasped.

Vera nodded curtly and brought the razor to Finn’s arm again.

Finn shuddered and bit down on a scream as Vera pressed the razor in harder. They buried their face in Ellis’s shoulder and groaned when Vera lifted the blade from their skin.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “The scar tissue is… um… thick, thicker than I thought it would be.”

A slash of fire burned across Finn’s arm. The razor _had_ to have cut through most of the brand. The pain was everywhere, sweeping away every other sensation in Finn’s body. They could no longer feel the cold tile on their feet, or the press of Ellis’s hand in theirs. Their awareness had narrowed to a single, searing pain that seemed to stretch across their entire arm.

They pulled away from Ellis and looked at the cut. Only the slightest sliver of the edge of the brand had been cut through. They whimpered and squeezed their eyes shut.

“You can scream if you want to,” Vera said softly. Finn nodded, and she let the razor press against their skin right beside the cut she had just made. Blood smeared on Finn’s arm.

Again the razor drew a line of fire against Finn’s skin. The scream that tore from them broke with their sob.

_“Ahh,”_ Finn moaned, tears suddenly streaming down their face and mixing with the sweat shining on their skin. “ _F-fuck._ How…” They raised their eyes to Vera. She kept her gaze studiously down, fixed on the blood oozing up from the slits across the brand. “H-how did you and Isaac deal with this?” they whispered.

Vera froze. Her lips trembled and her mouth twisted. “I-Isaac and I didn’t have a choice,” she said weakly. “You do. You’re strong. You’re choosing to take this pain.”

“You said you had to take it so Joseph would trust you,” Finn said, trembling violently.

Vera paused, the razor held tightly in her hand. “Th-that was different,” she whispered.

“But Vera, it—”

“You ready?” she said, tremulously, like she was moments from running from the room. Finn’s hand squeezed into a fist. They nodded.

The razor dipped into their skin again. Finn’s mouth fell open in a desperate scream as their skin split under the blade. The muscles in their arm tensed, pulled, trying to wrench away from Vera’s grip even as Finn desperately tried to hold themself still. It was like holding a hand over a flame, while the pain built and built until their body took over and tried to make it _stop._

Finn’s arm jerked. Vera pulled the razor away from Finn’s arm. Her throat worked around a swallow and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Finn,” she said, and darkness moved in her voice. “I need you to not—”

“Ellis,” Finn gasped, shivering, as the pain tore at their mind. “I… I need you to hold me down.”

Ellis pressed their hand to their mouth and muffled a whimper.

“Please, babe,” Finn said, their free hand clamped down on Ellis’s. “Please. This…” Finn blinked tears away and met Ellis’s gaze. They pushed away the dread, the inescapable _need_ to pull away, to cower, to hide. They reached out in their awareness for the tiny bead of light they’d imagined growing in Ellis, and drew upon its strength. “For the family, Ellis,” they rasped. “For… for the baby.”

There was a flicker of hesitation behind Ellis’s eyes, and for a moment, Finn crumpled. _We’ll have to ask the others. We’ll have to ask Isaac, and it’ll_ hurt _him. He listened to us all scream and hated himself every single day for it. He can’t hear me scream again. I_ can’t _put this burden on him._

_But I can burden the others?_

Ellis’s mouth hardened, and their eyes flashed with something that made Finn’s heart thud in their chest. Ellis leaned forward and pinned Finn’s arm down to the table with an iron grip.

“Do it,” they said, with a voice like iron.


	34. Survivor's Guilt

The town hall was absolutely _packed_ with people. Isaac had always thought the hall strangely large for a town that had such scant traffic through, but now… he understood.

It was a surge day, according to Schiester. He’d told Gray and Isaac over and over that afternoon that he was grateful for their help. Gray was with Schiester now, processing the applications the citizens of Crayton had sent in to become temporary homes for the refugees.

As Isaac’s gaze moved over the fifty or so people crowded into the atrium, milling about, looking for loved ones and shouting across the wide space, his stomach churned. These people, every single one, were refugees from the chaos that had risen up in the wake of Colleen Stormbeck’s death. They’d arrived this morning, a strange caravan of two decrepit school buses full of people.

Isaac started as a man all but appeared in front of him, herding his three children close to the table that held the paperwork Isaac had this morning been shown to fill out. The man’s eyes were wild, red from lack of sleep or crying. Or both, probably. His arms encircled his children and pushed them towards Isaac. Underneath the bone-deep exhaustion that radiated off him in waves, Isaac could see a tenuous disbelief. He knew that look so well. He knew he’d worn it many times.

_We made it,_ the look said. _I kept them safe._

Isaac clenched his jaw and picked up the pen.

“We’ll start with you,” he said to the man, his voice low and carrying over the crowd. “What’s your name?”

“T-Thomas Koran.” The man wet his lips and swayed in place.

Isaac wrote it down. His hand was already cramping. He couldn’t remember the last time he wrote this much at once, and he’d only checked in two families and a loner so far. “Date of birth?”

“Um…” The man’s eyes went blank, his jaw opening slowly. “ _Fuck._ Why don’t I… what…?” He scrubbed his face with his hand. He had dried blood under his fingernails. “Oh! Fuck, why did I forget my own birthday? Jesus—” The man went rigid and threw a nervous look at his children.

The oldest one, with the man’s deep brown skin but someone else’s hazel eyes, rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “You just said ‘fuck’, dad,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t get weird when you say ‘Jesus.’”

Isaac had to suppress a half-smile. The kid looked like he was thirteen, maybe fourteen, and wore a look of bored hostility like a mask. Isaac shook his head and glanced at the next line. “That’s okay. We can skip it. This is just a preliminary screening. When you get checked in for placement then—”

“Oh, no, it’s November eleventh, 1992,” Thomas said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Sorry. I remembered.”

Isaac carefully wrote it down. “Great. Town of origin?”

Thomas glanced up at Isaac, and his eyes widened just a fraction. “Oh. We’ve been, um… we’ve been pretty, ah, m-mobile.”

“We’re homeless!” said the little girl who seemed glued to the man’s side. She looked like she was four or five, with her thick black hair up in a messy ponytail that reminded Isaac of Edrissa’s haphazard buns on the top of her head. Distantly, he wondered if either style was intentional.

Thomas blushed and stared at the wooden table in front of Isaac, marred with nicks and dents from years of heavy use. He chewed his lip and wouldn’t meet Isaac’s gaze.

“Y-yeah,” he whispered. “We’re homeless.”

“That’s okay,” Isaac said quickly, and made the note. “A lot of people who come through are. My family was a mobile one, too, before we came here.” He offered Thomas an awkward half-smile.

Thomas smiled back, his shoulders drooping. “Oh,” he said, and distractedly rubbed his little girl’s back. “That’s… that’s good.”

The third child, a girl looking not much older than the youngest, watched Isaac with wary eyes from the circle of her father’s arms. She tugged at her father’s shirt and loudly whispered, “Who’s that?”

“That’s the man who’s helping us get checked in, honey,” Thomas said, a thin smile on his lips.

“My name is Kira!” the youngest one said, pulling away from her father and standing right up against the table.

“Oh.” Isaac’s hand drifted down to the next section and scribbled it in.

“I’m four!” she said, holding up a hand with four little fingers splayed wide.

Isaac’s lips quirked into a smile. “Um… wow!” he said stiffly, suddenly unsure of what to say next.

“Wait your turn, Kira,” Thomas said heavily, and took her hand, pulling her away from the table.

“Sorry about her,” the boy said, rolling his eyes again. “She’s _precocious._ ” The boy said it with such seriousness that Isaac had to laugh, just a little. “I’m Alec. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand at Isaac.

Isaac wiped his hand on his pants, grimacing from how damp his palm was. “Isaac,” he said, and took Alec’s hand. The boy shook it once, his hand trembling from how tight he was squeezing. He pulled back and crossed his arms over his chest.

Thomas blinked and scrubbed his face with his hand. “What, what other questions…?”

Isaac glanced at the sheet, and scribbled in Alec’s name below Kira’s. “Occupation?”

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m trained as a welder,” he said with a shrug. “But I haven’t… it’s been a while since…”

“Who did you used to work for?” Isaac said, moving down the list of questions.

“Um…” Thomas blinked again, slowly. Isaac wondered when the last time was that he got some sleep. “My last job was with Synchrony Building… they build, um, _built_ skyscrapers…”

Isaac wrote it down. Vaguely, he wondered what this had to do with anything, but he shook his head. _I didn’t write the form._

“Last question for you,” Isaac said, his shoulders tensing as he did. “Do you have any ties to the Stormbeck, Anderson, Torr, or Wilson syndicates?”

Thomas swallowed and stared at Isaac. “What… ties? What do you mean?”

“Um…” Isaac wet his lips. “Familial ties, history of employment, that kind of thing.”

“No,” Thomas rasped. “I… I’ve spent the past… three _years_ staying as far away from those bastards…” His face went red, and his hand tightened around his daughter’s. “I… I have _nothing to do with_ …”

“Okay,” Isaac said quickly, placating. “I’m sorry. I have to ask everyone.”

Thomas blew out a slow breath through his nose, his eyes sliding shut. “Okay. What… what else do you need?”

“Just their names and birthdays,” Isaac said, gesturing to the children with his pen.

“I’m four!” Kira said again, holding up her hand with four fingers up.

“What’s your birthday?” Isaac said.

“November!” she said with a grin.

Isaac blinked. “Okay, what else?”

Kira looked up at her father, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Your birthday is N-November thirteenth, 2025, sweetheart,” Thomas said gently. A shiver rolled over Isaac’s shoulders. “Two days after mine.” Thomas smiled down at her.

Isaac wrote it down. “And… Alec? What’s your date of birth?”

“August fifteenth, 2015,” he said, looking at the paper Isaac was writing on.

Isaac looked up at the last girl. “What’s your name and date of birth?” he said, more sharply than he meant. The girl cringed back against her father and murmured something Isaac couldn’t hear.

“Hm?” He leaned forward. The girl looked up at her father, then back at Isaac, fixing him with her wide hazel eyes. Just like her brother’s, and her sister’s.

“T-Trisha,” she murmured, and blushed furiously. She turned her face against her father’s side.

Isaac wrote it down. “And your date of birth?”

When Trisha turned her face to look at Isaac, tears were welling in her eyes. Isaac leaned back, embarrassed and horrified and _so confused._ His mouth bobbed open and closed.

_What did I do wrong?_

“It’s February ninth, 2023,” Thomas said, and wrapped his arm tight around Trisha, crushing her against his side. “S-sorry,” he mumbled. “Ever since… we um… she’s been…”

Trisha’s lower lip wobbled and she shoved her face against Thomas’s shirt. She whimpered and began to cry.

Isaac rocked forward, horror flipping immediately to protective concern. He paused as Thomas gently stroked her hair and let her take hitched sobs against his shirt. Tears shone in his eyes.

“That’s…” Isaac cleared his throat. “That’s all I needed. Um, the mayor should be down the hall with the other volunteers to assign your… t-temporary living situations. Is there anything—”

“Daddy, when’s mommy coming?” Kira said, her little arms stretching as far around both of Thomas’s legs as she could reach.

Isaac froze. Thomas’s face fell, devastation flashing across it. He blinked, and lifted his chin, staring up at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath. Isaac glanced at Alec and saw him doing the same thing, his face twisted with rage and grief. Trisha cried harder against Thomas.

“I told you, sweetie,” Thomas croaked, forcing a twisted smile across his face. “Mommy isn’t coming.”

Isaac felt something tear in his chest. The room blurred, and his eyes burned with sudden tears.

“But why?” Kira said, tilting her head so far back to look at Thomas that she started to bend backwards. “Where is she?”

“Sh-she’s _dead, Kira,_ ” Alec snapped, dashing tears from his eyes. “She’s _never coming back._ ”

Kira flinched back from the venom in her brother’s tone. Her face twisted and she burst into tears. Alec sniffed back his own, his arms squeezing his chest.

Thomas sagged and drew his arms around his children again. Alec shrugged off his father’s arm and took a step back, his face turned away.

Isaac felt the crushing tide of their grief as Thomas forced back his tears. He raised his eyes to Isaac, desperate sorrow and pain shining darkly in his eyes. “Where…?”

Isaac shook himself and pointed to his left, towards the hall. “That way,” he said, his voice breaking. “They’ll assign you homes until a permanent…” Isaac trailed off. The man’s gaze was far away, and Isaac wasn’t sure if Thomas could even hear him. “You’ll be safe,” he said, weakly.

Thomas’s eyes flicked up and met Isaac’s, a weak blaze of gratitude burning in them. “Thank you,” Thomas rasped, and herded his children down the hall.

No one else was in line behind them. Isaac glanced around the atrium, his shoulders sagging. How many of these new refugees had stories like that? How many of them were leaving behind the bodies of their loved ones, desperately grasping for the only chance at safety they had?

Someone on the steps caught Isaac’s eye.

They were just a kid, sitting on the staircase leading upstairs, up high enough that their head was visible over the crowd. They sagged against the railing, their eyes open and sightless, tears streaming down their face. They looked like they were as old as Thomas’s oldest kid, maybe a little older. Isaac made his way out from behind the wooden table and pushed through the crowd, slowly crossing the atrium to them.

He reached the bottom of the stairs. The kid didn’t look at him. Barely even blinked. Isaac couldn’t tell if they were looking at the crowd, or lost within their own mind.

“Ah… hey, kid?” he said, placing his foot on the lowest step. They didn’t stir. He climbed the first step, then the second. “Kid?”

The kid started and stared at Isaac. They blinked slowly. “Y-yeah?”

“Hey. You alright?”

“I’m…” The kid swallowed thickly. “I’m looking for my brother. Caleb.”

“Okay…” Isaac climbed another step. “What’s your name?”

“A-Aryn.”

“Aryn,” Isaac said. “Nice to meet you. When did you—”

“I don’t know where my brother is,” Aryn said softly, their eyes red and swollen. “I don’t… don’t know where, where _Caleb is…_ ” They shuddered and buried their face in their hands.

“When did you last see him?” Isaac asked, his stomach sinking.

“This morning,” Aryn sobbed into their hands. “I, I s-saw him _this morning,_ I’m _positive._ But I… I thought… I could have _sworn_ I saw him this morning. He was… he was there at our last bathroom break, and that was this morning a few hours out of here… I… but I thought… I didn’t mean to, I fell asleep and, and when I woke up we were, were _here_ and he wasn’t here and… I thought… _shit,_ I was just so _tired_ and I… I didn’t mean to lose track of him…”

“Okay, how old is he?” Isaac said, dread brewing in his chest. _Please don’t let it be a kid, please don’t let it be a kid…_

“He’s nineteen,” Aryn groaned. “He’s got blond hair like mine, but his eyes are green, not brown. And he’s got a tattoo here.” They gestured to their left shoulder. “It’s a stupid bird. He was wearing…” They ground the heels of their hands into their eyes. “A… a brown shirt, and jeans, and…” They lurched forward with a sob. “I don’t know where he _went!_ ”

Isaac carefully climbed the last three steps and sat beside the kid. His hands twisted in front of him, his knuckles almost turning white, as he stared out at the crowd in front of him. Aryn whimpered and heaved another sob.

Isaac draped his arm across their shoulders and rubbed their arm. They shivered and covered their mouth with their hands. Their shoulders shook. Their wails carried over the sound of the crowd. Isaac ran a hand through his hair, forcing down the sharp stab of grief in his chest.

_Is this what it’s like to help the refugees? Jesus Christ, I thought I had a rough time of it. I’ve never lost someone like this. I always had someone else that I could stay with, at least._

The kid leaned against Isaac. Isaac squeezed their shoulders.

Gray walked from behind the staircase out into the atrium, towering over most of the refugees. Their head swiveled like they were looking for Isaac.

“Up here,” he said, and they turned. Their face softened when they saw Aryn huddled against his side. A moment later, Daniel Schiester walked in behind them. He followed Gray’s gaze and found Isaac.

Gray tilted their head at Isaac in a silent question. He raised his shoulders, biting down hard on his lip. He glanced at Schiester. “Um…”

“Who’s this?” Gray said gently, their tone pitched low and even, their face open and calm. Isaac felt a pang of jealousy of how _easily_ Gray fell into that role.

“This is Aryn,” Isaac said, gently shaking them. They looked up and looked at Gray and Schiester in turn. “I haven’t checked them in yet. They’re looking for their brother.”

Gray’s eyebrows drew together. “Oh. Did he come with you?”

Isaac rose and eased Aryn up beside him. As they walked down the stairs their body seemed disjointed and numb, as if Aryn was merely coasting by, standing beside themself, instead of driving their own movements. It made Isaac shiver.

“Um…” Aryn wiped their nose. Gray’s arm went around their shoulders on their other side.

“Let me get you checked in,” Gray said, glancing at Isaac. “Isaac, I can take them, if you want.”

“Sure,” Isaac said weakly. He let Gray lead Aryn to the table with the stack of intake forms. Gray picked up a pen and began to fill one out with them.

“It’s hard,” Schiester said, starting Isaac out of his reverie. “Especially seeing the young ones hurting.”

Isaac’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “D-does… does that happen a lot?”

“What, them losing family along the way?” Schiester nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s very frequent. Raids, syndicate checkpoints, bounty hunters, even soiled food can make the journey north very, very hard. Some people we see come through here _walk._ From what I can gather…” Schiester motioned with his head. “Just about every person here was a walker, before Jess and Trudy picked them up.”

Isaac blinked. “Jess and Trudy?”

“The drivers of the buses that brought them,” Schiester said with a smile. “Those two women picked up every refugee they could find as they made their way north. I’m actually talking to them about making that a regular thing.” Schiester laughed, and the was sound perfectly-pitched, warm and yet mirthless. “I get to meet the most _incredible_ people through this job.”

Isaac shifted uncomfortably. “No, I mean…” He shrugged. “They said they saw him _this morning._ They were pretty sure. They said they saw him at the rest stop, and then…”

Daniel tilted his head, regarding Isaac with his cold blue eyes. “‘ _Pretty’_ sure?”

“Look, I know sleep deprivation can do some pretty weird shit,” Isaac said, staring at the floor. “I don’t blame them for—”

“Neither do I,” Schiester said, placing a gentle hand on Isaac’s shoulder. He missed the cuts and the cane marks, although they were all almost entirely healed. “I wasn’t trying to imply…” He laughed once, his face pulling into an easy smile. “I apologize. What I was trying to say is, yes, people lose track of the others on their journeys north. People get lost. People die. People get separated during chaotic situations.” Schiester tilted his head, regarding Isaac coolly. “It’s completely possible that he fell behind, and we’ll see him on the next shipment. Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said weakly. “Yeah, they have.”

Schiester looked at Isaac for another moment, then squeezed Isaac’s shoulder. “I appreciate your help today, Isaac,” he said, and the hair on the back of Isaac’s neck prickled. He breathed a meager sigh of relief as Schiester released his shoulder. “This is my life’s work. I’m grateful to have the likes of _Isaac Moore_ on my team.”

The words left Isaac feeling… empty. They went through him like air. He swallowed hard.

Schiester turned away. “I have to get back to my part in this, Isaac,” he said, giving Isaac a nod. “If you have any questions, or any more missing to report, please get me.” He turned and walked down the hall.

Isaac watched him go, opening and closing his fist. Finally, he turned back towards the check-in table, where Gray was taking down the info of an older woman, trembling from head to toe. He clenched his jaw and made his way to it, to help with the next refugee.


	35. Accidents

As Gray pulled back up to the house in the family’s beat-up car, Isaac sagged with exhaustion. Fifty-six refugees. Isaac had processed _fifty-six_ saved lives with Gray, Schiester, and the three other people who’d been able to volunteer their time. Isaac had done the preliminary paperwork on most of them, and it was as if their images were burned into the backs of his eyes. 

He’d only ever been able to save people in ones and twos, sometimes the occasional family. But… _fifty-six people._ He’d helped with fifty-six people’s rescues today. 

He wondered, then, why he felt so empty. 

He felt scraped raw, dragged over rocky ground. Every single one of those people had a story like his, or worse. Every single one had lost someone along the way. Their lives had all been destroyed, in one way or another, by the syndicates Isaac had spent his life trying to destroy. An entire life of effort, and there were still broken people heading for the promise of freedom. He’d spent his entire life fighting a threat that still sucked people in and spat them out like some fucked up industrial machine. 

But… fifty-six lives. 

_I just did paperwork._

He clenched his hand into a fist and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the thoughts that were more familiar to him than breathing. _Invasive thoughts,_ Gray called them. Isaac still hadn’t read the book Gray had given him for the thoughts, but he understood the basic premise. 

He also understood the only way to fight them was to just… let them go. Totally easy. 

Gray put the car in park and glanced at him as they turned it off. “Everything okay?” they said gently. They sounded tired, too. 

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, relaxing his hand. “Just… thinking.”

“Hm,” Gray murmured, and pulled the keys out of the ignition. They got out of the car and left the keys on the seat. They’d done that at Tori’s house, but it still made Isaac dizzy. 

_I’ve never been this safe in my entire life._

“You hungry?” Gray said, and Isaac realized they were waiting for him to get out. He staggered to his feet, stretching his legs after the long car ride from Crayton. 

“Yeah,” Isaac said, stretching his hands over his head, yawning. The sky was streaked with color, and the sun was minutes from setting behind the house. “I could eat.” In truth, he was _starving._ He just wasn’t sure he had the energy to cook a whole meal. 

_I wonder if I could convince Gavin that the cooking practice would be good for him…_

He smiled and shook his head as he followed Gray inside. 

In the kitchen, Tori, Ellis, and Finn all stood in the kitchen talking. As soon as Isaac and Gray walked in, they fell silent, gigantic grins on their faces. Finn crossed their arms and leaned against a counter. They jerked as if they’d been shocked and let their arms fall to their sides. Isaac raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at his lips. 

“Um… guys?” he said, glancing at Gray. They looked equally curious. “What’s up?”

Finn and Ellis exchanged a glance, conspiratory grins pulling wider. 

“Go get the others,” Ellis said. 

“Gotta tell you something,” Finn said at the same time. 

Isaac’s eyes narrowed, and he smiled wider. “Okay… where is everyone?”

Ellis waved their hand dismissively in the direction of the bedrooms. “Gavin ran into the bedroom as soon as he heard the car coming,” they sighed. “Vera, Edrissa, and Sam are in the barn. _Sparring,_ ” Ellis deepened their voice and widened their eyes. “Edrissa’s turning into a _deadly assassin._ ” 

Isaac snorted. “She’s doing really well, yeah,” he said gently. 

“I’ll get Gavin,” Gray said, resting a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “You want to go get the others?”

“Sure,” Isaac said, and walked towards the back of the house. His cheeks flushed at the knowing smiles the others shared as he passed. He left the kitchen and went out into the yard. 

He tilted his head back and smiled, breathing in the cool air off the lake. The sky was fading to a dusty pink, the deep purple of the sky above the clouds showing in slits. As he walked through the grass to the barn, he felt the heaviness of the day fall away, just a little. He’d done his best today, and now he was _home._

As he walked towards the barn, he heard a _thump._ He tilted his head at the sound. 

_Thump._

He walked through the open door. Sam was sitting cross-legged on the wood floor, their arm in its sling, and staring at Edrissa and Vera where they stood in the middle of the barn floor. Vera held a thick pad along the left side of her body and she crouched behind it, protecting her head, chest, and flank. Edrissa stood in front of her, her hands raised in fists. She lurched forward and swung her leg around, kicking the pad with all her might.

_Thump._

Isaac smiled and stepped into the barn. A floorboard squeaked. Vera looked up, her face pulling into a smile. Edrissa started a kick. Vera let the pad drop to her side as she straightened. Edrissa’s foot smacked against the side of Vera’s head. 

Vera’s face went slack, and she was out before she hit the ground. 

Isaac lunged towards her, his hands outstretched. She crumpled to the floor. Edrissa stumbled back, her hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. Sam’s left hand stretched out in front of them, halfway up on their knees. Isaac stared, dumbfounded, at Vera where she lay on the floor.

Vera blinked slowly and looked around, her hand going to her head. She opened and closed her jaw and shook her head. Her gaze found Edrissa.

“I…” Edrissa whispered. She trembled and cringed back into herself. “I… I am… so, so sorry…” Her lips trembled and her eyes shone with tears. “Vera…”

Vera was already getting up. Isaac was by her side in a heartbeat, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “Whoa. You good?”

Vera distractedly put her hand over Isaac’s. She turned dazed eyes on Edrissa. Edrissa took a step back. 

“I’m sorry… please…”

Vera blinked and moved her jaw again. She gently massaged the spot. 

“Nice shot,” she rasped. 

Edrissa went perfectly still. “Nice…?”

Vera laughed dryly and grasped at Isaac’s arm. She let him pull her to her feet. She swayed in place, her eyes closing slowly again, before she smiled. She winced and put her hand to her face. “You found my knockout button,” she said, shaking her head.

Edrissa stared at Vera, her gaze pleading and terrified but… hopeful. “Your…?”

“Um.” Vera swallowed thickly. “Everyone’s got a ‘knockout button.’” She pointed to the joint of her jaw. “Right about here. You hit that just right, they’re out like a light for a few seconds, or more.”

“I’m… s-sorry I hit you,” Edrissa whispered. 

“It’s okay,” Vera said, smiling wider now. “I let my guard down. I… guess I underestimated you, for a moment. She arched an eyebrow at Edrissa. “Remind me to _not_ do that again.”

A watery smile played at Edrissa’s lips. “Are you… mad?”

Vera laughed again, louder, and shook her head. “I’m not mad. That was a _good_ kick. We were still practicing, and I let my guard down. It’s not your fault.” She smiled wider. “I swear, Edrissa. Not mad. I’m… _impressed._ ”

“Really?” Edrissa murmured, and wrapped her arms around her waist. 

Sam got to their feet and went to her side. She blushed a furious red as they took her hand. 

_When did_ that _happen?_

Isaac smiled. _They’re good for each other. And they’re sweet._

Vera smoothed her hair and dusted off her clothes. “Really. I’m not mad.” She glanced at Isaac, still looking slightly dazed. “What’s up? Glad to see you back. How was the day?”

“Um, good,” Isaac said, and shrugged. “The others want to tell us something, though? They asked me to come get you.”

Vera’s eyes sparkled with a knowing smile. Isaac’s brow furrowed. 

“Come on,” Vera said quietly, excitement lacing her voice. “Let’s go talk, then.” She turned and walked out of the barn, Edrissa on her heels. She pulled Sam behind her. They turned back and looked at Isaac with a dopey smile, and he found himself grinning back.

_They deserve to have this good thing._

Isaac felt a sudden flood of gratitude for Edrissa. 

As they made their way back to the house, Isaac shivered in the sudden cool of the night without the sun to warm him. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. The cuts there were healed. His back, not quite yet, but his arms were healed. 

As he walked back into the warmth of the house he was greeted by the sight of Tori, Ellis, Finn, Gray, and Gavin all standing in the kitchen, looking expectantly at him and the other three. Gavin had a flush on his face and a shy smile that made Isaac blush. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw Gavin against the fridge and—

“So what’s the news?” Gray said, looking from Ellis to Finn to Tori and back. Their eyes stayed on Ellis, and they chewed their lip. 

“Um…” Finn looked at Ellis and gulped loudly. They pulled Ellis firmly into their arms and pressed a kiss against the side of their head. 

“I’m pregnant,” Ellis said with a rush of breath. 

_“Oh,”_ Edrissa whispered. 

Isaac’s mouth fell open. He looked from Ellis to Finn, waiting for them to say they were joking and that this had been a great prank. They both looked at the family with radiant smiles. Finn’s eyes were filled with tears. He glanced at Tori, and she was staring at Ellis with something close to rapture on her face. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“R-really?” Isaac breathed. “You’re… you’re having a _baby?_ ”

Ellis laughed, and the sound was free, and light, and happy. “Yeah, dumbass,” they said, leaning against Finn. “That’s what happens when you’re pregnant.”

Isaac stood still for a moment longer. Then he lunged forward and threw his arms around them both.

“I can’t believe it!” Sam said, their voice high and airy, their chest heaving with half-laughter, half -sobs. “I… can’t _believe_ it!”

“That’s… that’s _great,_ ” Gray said behind him, and it sounded like they were holding back tears. “Really… really fantastic.” They stepped forward and put a hand on Ellis’s shoulder. Vera went to Tori’s side and they wrapped their arms around each other. Vera pressed a kiss against Tori’s forehead, and Tori smiled at the touch. 

“How… when…?” Isaac gasped, and pulled away from the hug. His eyes darted between them. 

Finn turned red from the collar of their shirt to the roots of their hair. “Um…”

“Sex, and recently?” Ellis said, playfully shoving Isaac. 

“N-no, I mean…” Isaac drew a hand through his hair. “I… I just… _now?_ I… _wow_.”

“Yeah, wow works,” Finn said, looking slightly stunned. “It’s… pretty crazy.” 

“Yeah, Jesus. But… good timing.” The breath caught in Isaac’s throat, a sudden vision of Ellis, pregnant in _Colleen’s house,_ chained to a bed to give birth if they lived that long, and the _baby_ …

He shuddered and pushed the vision out of his mind. He focused again on Ellis’s face. 

They were looking over his shoulder. “Hey, dumbass,” they said, a little tightly, but still with a smile. “You gonna get your ass over here and congratulate me, or what?”

Isaac glanced behind him and saw Gavin go beet red. “Oh,” he mumbled, and stepped forward. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know you… wanted…”

“Yeah, well…” Ellis trailed off. “I do.”

Gavin stepped forward. “C-congratulations,” he said, and stopped at Isaac’s side. “That’s… really, really great.” Isaac threw an arm over his shoulder. Gavin melted against Isaac, a little sigh making its way through his lips. 

Sam pushed forward and wrapped their left arm around Finn’s waist, leaning their right shoulder gently against Ellis. They both wrapped Sam up in a gentle hug. They stepped back and stared back up at them, a wide smile across their face. Isaac didn’t think he’s seen them this happy since…

He couldn’t really remember.

“This family could use some good news,” Gray said gently, stepping forward to kiss Ellis on the top of their head. Ellis looked up at Gray with tears in their eyes as they gave Finn a kiss, too. “So…” They chuckled. “Really, really excellent work.”

“Well, we try,” Ellis said, flipping their hair over their shoulder. 

Edrissa walked up and stood beside Gray. She looked up at Ellis, her hand extended out like she was about to touch Ellis’s belly. “This is… oh, Ellis, I… I can made _all_ their clothes, if you want. There’s this nice store in Crayton that sells yarn and it’s… it’s been a while since I crocheted, and I’ll have to grab some patterns, but I can… Oh. I could start with a onsie… do you have any colors you really want? Does it… can you tell what sex it is? I heard sometimes you can tell…”

Ellis grinned down at her. “I think that might be a myth,” they said, smiling softly. Their hand settled over their belly. “I have no idea what it is. But…” They shrugged. “I like blue. No matter what, the baby can wear blue.”

“The baby can wear _anything you want,_ ” Edrissa sighed, looking like she was floating on air.

Isaac wondered if she ever imagined she would be this happy again. 

Gavin pressed a soft kiss to Isaac’s cheek. Isaac blushed and turned to him. Gavin’s smile made something in him _ache._ He wet his lips.

“You hungry?” Gavin murmured.

“Yeah, actually,” Isaac said, smiling. 

“I have sandwiches in the fridge, if you want,” Gavin said with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I made my, um… my favorite.” Gavin glanced at the floor. 

“Sounds great,” Isaac said, his mouth watering. 

“And then…” Gavin leaned in closer, his lips inches from Isaac’s ear. “After we eat, I want to talk to you,” he whispered, and the sound didn’t carry in the happy, busy kitchen.

Isaac pulled back and stared at Gavin, at the slip of a smile on his face, at the way his eyes seemed to burn from within. Isaac’s stomach flipped in anticipation of whatever… _talking_ meant.

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, and cleared his throat. “Sounds, um… sounds good.”


	36. Please...

When Gavin set the sandwich down in front of Isaac, Isaac snatched it up and took a massive bite. He paused halfway through chewing as he realized the sandwich was _delicious._ His eyes widened in surprise and he stared at Gavin.

Gavin blushed. “It’s, um… It’s turkey, ham, lettuce, tomato, onion, pesto – I was surprised they had pesto, but apparently the greenhouse in Burmingham grows basil all year long – salt, pepper, and swiss cheese.” He said the ingredients like he was reciting a list from memory. “M-my, um…” He flushed red, his mouth twisting at the corners. “My p-parents’ cook made them. Mrs. Learner. When I moved out I got the list from her and it’s one of the things I had my—” He bit his lip and fell silent.

Isaac swallowed the bite. “Well, it’s… it’s _really good._ ” Gavin had heated the sandwich up a bit, let the bread crisp and the cheese melt as he warmed it in a pan over the stove, before putting the vegetables back in. Isaac was starving, but it might have been the best sandwich he’d ever had.

The others were moving around the kitchen, preparing their own dinners, talking, laughing. Isaac smiled as he glanced at Ellis, and thought about the baby growing inside them.

_I’m going to be an uncle._ The thought brought a grin to his face. He took another bite.

Gavin was eating his own sandwich, a sort of faraway look on his face. Isaac wondered, again, what exactly Gavin meant when he said he wanted to _talk_.

Isaac could hardly wait to find out.

Another bite, and he was mostly finished. He glanced at Gavin, who was devouring his, as well. Another few bites, and Isaac was done, staring at his empty plate. He glanced over at Gavin and smiled.

“Wha?” Gavin said, the word muffled by the bite in his mouth.

“Nothing,” Isaac said. “Just want to talk to you.”

Gavin flushed and swallowed his bite of sandwich. “Oh.” He shoved the last bite in his mouth, far too large, and stood, reaching for his plate.

“I got it,” Isaac said, and picked the plate up. “You made dinner. I can do… this, since there’s no cleanup.” He chuckled.

Gavin nodded, chewing slowly.

Isaac took both plates to the kitchen, winding his way through the others. Vera shifted away from her spot at the sink, and Isaac turned on the water. He scrubbed one plate, washing away the crumbs, then the other, before placing them on the drying rack beside the sink. When he turned back, Gavin was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Isaac grinned as Gavin turned, and he followed him out of the kitchen.

As they passed through the living room and around the corner to the bedrooms, Gavin took Isaac’s hand. Isaac’s skin tingled at the touch, and he felt something drawing him closer to Gavin, like a need, like a string around his heart that couldn’t be pulled too tight. By the time they got to the bedroom, Isaac’s heart was pounding, his breath coming faster, his body on _fire_ with want.

Gavin pulled him through the doorway and gently closed the door behind him. Isaac’s hands shook as he looked at Gavin, his eyes dancing over Gavin’s face, his lips, his green eyes that pulled him in and made him want to stay here, forever, just so he could get lost in them again and again…

“What…” Isaac’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “What did you want to, ah, talk about?”

“Well, I…” Gavin’s eyes flicked down to Isaac’s lips, and back up. “While you were gone, I…” He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. “I…” Gavin took Isaac’s hands. “Well, I… I want you.” A thrill went through Isaac, and he fought to catch his breath. “But I didn’t want to have to… wait. For you to get me ready. So, before you got here, I, um…” Gavin flushed, and he wet his lips. “I… g-got myself, um, ready.”

Isaac whined softly at the thunderclap of heat that broke through him.

“S-so, I…” Gavin leaned in close, watching Isaac’s lips. “I… Can I… have you, Isaac?”

_“Oh, fuck,”_ Isaac breathed, and pulled Gavin’s mouth hard against his.

Gavin moaned against his lips, sliding his hands up Isaac’s chest, up the back of his neck, to tangle in his hair. Isaac grabbed at Gavin’s waist, pushing him backwards towards the bed.

“Gavin, I…” Isaac panted against Gavin’s mouth. “Oh, _f-fuck_ …”

Isaac backed Gavin up against the bed, his hands going up underneath his shirt, his fingers running against the ridges of his scars. His hands tightened on Gavin’s waist and he turned him around, pushing him down onto the bed.

Gavin whimpered and arched back, seeking out Isaac’s mouth, pressing his tongue in deep. Isaac was breathless by the time Gavin broke the kiss.

Gavin crawled forward until he reached the headboard, reaching back and pulling Isaac closer. Isaac’s hands went to the front of his pants and he shakingly unclasped his belt, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down.

Gavin was doing the same, looking over his shoulder at Isaac as he did. Isaac thought he would shake apart as he watched Gavin ease his pants and underwear down off his hips.

Isaac nearly fell off the bed as he reached for the nightstand, pawing around in the drawer for the lube. He let out a huff of relief as his hand closed on it. He slicked his fingers and knelt behind Gavin. One hand went to Gavin’s waist, wrapping around, under his shirt, to slide up his chest, and the other went to Gavin’s ass. Isaac pressed his lips to the back of Gavin’s neck, and slid one finger inside.

Gavin moaned, and Isaac fought to catch his breath. One finger slid in easily. Isaac added a second, and he trembled at how easily Gavin took it in. Isaac added a third, and Gavin arched back, gasping.

“ _Now,_ Isaac,” Gavin pleaded, pushing himself back against Isaac’s fingers. “I… I want you _now._ ”

“Not yet,” Isaac murmured, kissing Gavin’s shoulder through his t-shirt. “Just… give me a, a _sec,_ okay? Not quite… ready…”

Gavin whined softly and turned his head, searching for Isaac’s mouth. His nipple hardened under Isaac’s fingers. “Please,” he rasped, tilting his head back and parting his lips. “Isaac, _please_ …” Isaac felt Gavin relax around his fingers, and Isaac groaned against Gavin’s mouth.

“Okay,” Isaac whispered, pulling back and reaching for a condom. He was already hard as he drew his cock out of his pants. His hands shook as he tore the packet open and rolled the condom on.

“Please,” Gavin whispered, angling his hips back as Isaac slicked his cock. “Isaac, Isaac, _please_ …”

“W-want you, too,” Isaac groaned as he lined himself up at Gavin’s ass. Isaac wrapped an arm tightly around Gavin’s waist, and they moaned together as Isaac slowly, gently, eased himself inside.

Isaac pressed his forehead against Gavin’s shoulder as he pressed himself into him, easing out, pressing in, easing out. Gavin was still so _tight,_ but relaxing more every moment. He pulled Gavin back against him, pressing his hips against Gavin’s until they were flush, Isaac as deep inside Gavin as he could go. Gavin whimpered and reached back to pull Isaac’s hips even more firmly against his.

“Fuck me, Isaac,” he whispered. “Please. Fuck, _please._ ”

Isaac whimpered, and snapped his hips hard against Gavin’s.

Gavin lurched forward with a moan, both hands flying out to grip the headboard. He pushed himself back harder against Isaac, spreading his legs a little more, his head falling back against Isaac’s shoulder.

_“Yes,”_ Gavin whispered. Isaac moaned and began to ride Gavin hard.

Gavin pushed himself back against Isaac, the bedframe squeaking with each thrust. Isaac grasped the headboard with one hand, the other drifting down across the front of Gavin’s hips. Gavin shuddered and jerked forward into Isaac’s hand as he wrapped it around Gavin’s cock. He moaned and pushed back against Isaac again, pushing Isaac deeper into him, and forward, rolling his hips into Isaac’s hand, until he was moaning with every exhale.

_“Gavin,”_ Isaac whispered against the back of his neck. “Gavin, _fuck,_ w-want you, Jesus _Christ_ …”

“Isaac, you’re so—” Gavin cut himself off with a moan as Isaac snapped his hips against him, faster, _harder._ “Isaac… _yes_ …” His fingers wound in Isaac’s shirt to pull him closer, and Isaac wondered for a brief moment what all his clothes were still doing on before he thrust deep inside Gavin, and the thought was swept away by the pleasure that swelled in him.

“Y-you thought about this while I was gone?” Isaac groaned against Gavin’s neck.

“All fucking _day,_ ” Gavin gasped, the words broken with their rhythm, and Isaac didn’t think he’d ever needed someone so much in his _life_.

He trailed his lips up Gavin’s neck and nipped gently at his ear. “ _You_ … thought about _me_ … doing _this_ …” He pressed his finger against the underside of Gavin’s cock, and Gavin cried out softly.

_“Yes,”_ he moaned. “But… but naked. Yeah.”

Isaac caught the collar of Gavin’s shirt in his teeth and tugged. “We can stop and—”

_“No!”_ Gavin gasped, pulling Isaac hard against him. “Don’t… don’t stop, _don’t fucking stop_ …”

Isaac laughed softly against Gavin’s shoulder. “Okay,” he said with a grin, sweat prickling under his clothes. “I won’t stop.”

_“Please,”_ Gavin begged. Desire stabbed through Isaac, and he bit down on the back of Gavin’s neck. Gavin dragged in a ragged gasp and arched back against Isaac. _“F-fuck, Isaac.”_

Isaac drew his tongue over the red spot and rolled his hips again, his vision going white. Gavin panted with every breath, little sounds leaving his throat with each thrust. Isaac’s heart pounded in his chest, and his skin _burned_ with need. Heat built in him, coiling at the base of his cock, trembling through his limbs.

Gavin’s voice was rising, his knuckles still white on the headboard, his head back against Isaac’s shoulder. His mouth was open, his eyes cracked open and unseeing as Isaac fucked him, sweat shining on his skin. The smell of sweat and sex and heat drove Isaac wild. He whimpered and pressed hot, wet kisses to Gavin’s hair.

Gavin arched back, rigid, his muscles pulling taut enough to snap. _“Isaac,”_ he whispered, and came hard.

Isaac shuddered as Gavin tightened around him, Gavin’s half-coherent moans sending shivers up his spine. He gently stroked Gavin through his orgasm, trembling, and his last few thrusts slammed home as he came. He softly kissed Gavin’s hair, his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, as his hand went still on Gavin’s cock. Gavin shuddered, pressing back against Isaac, and turned his head to kiss him.

“Thank you,” Gavin breathed against Isaac’s lips, a radiant smile on his face. “That was… um…”

_“Good,”_ Isaac finished.

“ _F-fuck,_ you’re…” Gavin moaned softly as Isaac pulled out of him. “You’re… you’re _perfect,_ Isaac.” Isaac pulled off the condom and dropped it into the trashcan. Gavin turned and looked at Isaac as he sat back against the mattress.

Isaac held out a hand. “Come here,” he said softly. “I want to… I want you… naked. Will you… j-just be naked with me? Please?”

Gavin smiled and moved forward until he was sitting in front of Isaac. “Yeah,” he said softly. “That sounds, um, good.”

Isaac’s hands went to the hem of Gavin’s shirt, and he gently pulled it up over his head. Isaac’s gaze moved over the scar on Gavin’s chest, then up to his lips, his eyes. He smiled as Gavin reached out and pulled his shirt up and over his head. There was a flicker of fear, the echo of panic at being exposed that still haunted Isaac, even after almost three weeks of safety, three weeks of loving Gavin and being loved by him.

_Will that ever go away?_

In that moment, with Gavin’s hands moving lovingly over his skin, he didn’t think it mattered.

They stood together beside the bed. Gavin bent and pulled Isaac’s pants down his hips, easing them down his legs to the floor. Isaac stepped out of them, then helped Gavin out of his. Gavin sat on the bed again and pulled Isaac down beside him.

They stretched out together, Gavin gently maneuvering Isaac so that his back was against Gavin’s chest. Gavin drew the covers up over them both and pulled Isaac close.

“I love you,” Gavin murmured against the back of Isaac’s neck, his lips brushing the now-healed skin the collar had worn to an open wound.

“I love you, too,” Isaac sighed, pressing himself back against Gavin, feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest and letting his own breaths slow to match.


	37. Wound Reveal

As the heat between them cooled, Isaac’s pulse slowed from a joyous thrum to a softer beat. Gavin softly kissed the back of his neck, over and over again, his lips brushing against the marks from the collar, up to Isaac’s hairline, and down to the very top of Isaac’s shoulders. After a long moment, Gavin pressed his lips firmly to a spot where Isaac’s neck and shoulder met. Isaac shivered. There was a whip scar there, he knew. Isaac wondered if the scar felt different on Gavin’s lips.

Again, to another spot where Isaac’s skin had been split with the whip. Again, again, again. Gavin peppered Isaac’s left shoulder with kisses, over the raised map of scars where the explosion had destroyed Isaac’s shoulder. Gavin pulled slightly away and let his hand ghost over Isaac’s side as he kissed his way down Isaac’s back. Isaac’s skin erupted into goosebumps at the soft touch, the gentle huff of Gavin’s breath across his back, the hand on his waist. Gavin’s lips brushed against whip and cane scars, one by one, across Isaac’s shoulder blades, down his spine, across his flanks, to the top of his hips, where the scars stopped.

“Wh-what…” Isaac croaked. He swallowed and tried again. “What are you, um, doing?” Under the peace, the joy at being touched, the gaping chasm inside him that was being filled with each brush of Gavin’s lips, there was fear. There was pain. There was the distant, frantic scramble to cover himself, push Gavin away, to not let him near the scars that marked Isaac as _broken. Used._ A plaything, tied down and whipped and caned and beaten until—

Gavin pulled away as Isaac tensed. Isaac turned his head to look over his shoulder at Gavin, who stared back at him with reverence and concern on his face. Gavin chewed his lip, his gaze dancing over Isaac’s face. “Um…” he managed. “I’m… um… kissing your scars.”

Isaac’s lips trembled and he pressed them into a line. “Wh-why?” he breathed.

Gavin’s face reddened. “Because, um…” He gulped, his gaze dropping to travel Isaac’s body and back. “Because I… They’re… _you,_ Isaac. They’re… I mean, it’s not that they’re _beautiful,_ but…” Gavin’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. “I mean… they’re not… _not_ beautiful. I’m not trying to say they’re… shit. _Shit._ I just mean…” He steadied himself and met Isaac’s gaze. His hand drifted out and cupped Isaac’s cheek. “Every single one is… is a mark that… didn’t kill you. Each one is proof that you’re still here. After everything you’ve been through, after everything that’s been…” He swallowed painfully. “… _done_ to you, you’re still alive. You’re still kind, and brave, and _special._ And I… I like that, about them.”

Isaac blinked, his muscles frozen at Gavin’s words. Pain seared through his scars for a moment, and he gasped. Gavin’s hand trembled as he pulled it away.

Gavin chewed his lip. “Is that…?”

“Th-that’s okay,” Isaac breathed. “I just… um…” He willed his shoulders to relax, and his jaw to unclench. He reached out and twined his fingers through Gavin’s. “It’s… thank you.”

Gavin’s face softened with a smile. He stretched out beside Isaac again and drew his finger down Isaac’s arm. Softly, following his fingers, he kissed every single scar, every burn, every cut. As he reached Isaac’s forearm, Gavin brushed his lips down the length of the long scar there. His kisses encircled Isaac’s wrist, brushing against the marks where Isaac had torn his wrists open, over and over.

Gavin reached out and put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder, willing him to roll towards him. Isaac kept his eyes fixed on Gavin as he did. Down the other arm, too, Gavin kissed every single scar, every single burn.

Gavin paused when he reached the small, puckered scar on Isaac’s right forearm. “Is this…?” He brought his eyes to Isaac’s. “I don’t… think…”

“No,” Isaac whispered, his chest rising shallowly, and burning with how _badly_ he wanted Gavin’s lips on him again. “One of my, um, first missions. I g-got stabbed.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “You… you _what?_ ”

Isaac’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “That one was rough, because I had to find someone to stitch me up. I was just so used to staying with the team, and they always had a medic around to keep me in good working condition—” Isaac’s stomach dropped as the words left his lips.

Gavin gasped softly, gently stroking his thumb against Isaac’s hand. Deep in Gavin’s eyes was a flat, metallic sort of sadness, one that ventured deep into despair and loss and heartbreak.

_We were both tools of destruction in our own way, both of us cast aside when we broke and couldn’t kill for the ones who raised us._

Isaac held Gavin’s gaze, feeling like he might break if Gavin looked away. Gavin flexed his jaw like he was holding something in. Without another word, Gavin brought Isaac’s hand up for a kiss. He brushed his lips against the scars around Isaac’s wrist, along the base of his thumb, and across his knuckles. Isaac’s skin tingled under Gavin’s lips.

Gavin placed his hands gently on Isaac’s chest and pushed him back so he was lying on his back. Gavin lay beside Isaac and met Isaac’s gaze.

“I love you,” he whispered, and leaned forward to taste Isaac’s lips.

Isaac returned the kiss, groaning against Gavin’s mouth. Gavin’s tongue gently traced along Isaac’s lower lip, soft as a breath, before he kissed across Isaac’s cheek, to his jaw, to press his lips against the pink scars that wrapped around Isaac’s throat.

Isaac gasped. His hand flew up to push back against Gavin’s chest, pushing at the terror that spiked in him for a moment as Gavin pressed his lips to his throat. Gavin sat back immediately, his eyes wide, his mouth pinched in guilt and concern.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin murmured. “I’m sorry. “I… I sh-should—”

“It’s okay,” Isaac rasped, holding his hand between himself and Gavin. His eyes rolled towards the ceiling, and tears burned. “I’m fine. “Just… w-with my, my neck, it’s…”

Gavin bit his lip. “Is that… is th-that from… from my mom’s house, or…?” He watched Isaac carefully.

“Before,” Isaac breathed, letting his hands fall to his sides. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. “Th-that was… from…” He bit down on his tongue. He couldn’t say it. If he said it, if he breathed into existence that his terror was from Gavin torturing him, choking him, holding him down in a dark basement while he slowly pressed down on Isaac’s throat, choking the life out of him…

He couldn’t do it. Not right now. Not when it could break this fragile thing they had, this thing that would shatter Isaac if he destroyed it.

Gavin’s throat worked against a swallow, or a sob. “That was… from me?”

Isaac’s eyes fell closed, sending the two tears in his eyes streaming back into his hair. He nodded weakly. “Yeah,” he croaked.

Isaac held his breath in the silence. He waited for Gavin to stand up, put his clothes on, say he was _tired_ of working for Isaac’s forgiveness, that he was _tired_ of having to prove himself every single day that he was different. That he was _reformed._ Isaac’s hands squeezed into fists as he waited for the judgement that pleasing him was too much, too hard. He fought back another wave of tears.

“Okay,” Gavin finally whispered. “Can I… can I keep going?”

Isaac’s eyes flew open. Gavin gazed down at him with a look in his eyes that clutched at Isaac’s heart. His gaze was soft, intense, burning with concern and guilt and a determination that made Isaac’s throat tighten. Gavin’s hands were folded in his lap as he waited for Isaac’s answer, patient and vulnerable.

Isaac wet his lips. “Um, yeah,” he breathed, his eyes flicking between Gavin’s. “Y-yeah. Please. Just… just not my… my neck.”

Gavin nodded solemnly and stretched out beside him. One finger traced over the pattern of scars on Isaac’s chest, lines that cut across in stripes in every direction. Gavin watched Isaac’s face carefully as he leaned forward, then let his eyes slide closed for a moment as he pressed his lips to one of the scars.

Isaac sighed and let his head fall back as Gavin drew his lips across Isaac’s chest, pausing to kiss each scar that marked his skin. These scars were lighter than most of the others, faded after almost a year. Gavin trailed his lips against each scar, drawing lower and lower until he reached where the scars stopped at Isaac’s hips. Isaac trembled at the feeling of Gavin so close, feeling his breath fan out against the planes of his abdomen – and feeling the heat of Gavin’s chest pressed against his hardening cock. Gavin gently kissed the last scar, then looked at Isaac with a raised eyebrow.

“Got something on your mind?” he said, his voice dark with mischief.

“Uh, yeah,” Isaac huffed, as his hips twitched up against Gavin. “But… not yet. Please. I want…” He looked down at Gavin, where Gavin’s chin rested lightly on the crest of Isaac’s hip. “Come… home here.” He reached down and gently gripped Gavin’s hair. He gave a light tug and drew Gavin up until he could reach his lips. He pulled Gavin in for a deep kiss.

Gavin whimpered softly and clutched at Isaac’s waist. Isaac gently took Gavin’s hands in his and eased them off of him. Gavin looked at him in confusion until Isaac placed a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and guided him onto his stomach. Isaac moved so he was behind Gavin and straddled his hips. Gavin whined softly and propped himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder with eyes suddenly hazy with want.

Isaac leaned down and pressed his lips against a cane mark stretching across the very top of Gavin’s shoulders. Gavin gasped and arched into the touch, his forehead pressed against the sheets. He whimpered as Isaac brushed his lips along Gavin’s back to the next mark, and the next, and the next, all run through with the thin, pink scars from Leo’s knife. Gavin shuddered and rolled his hips against the bed as Isaac pushed himself back so he could kiss further down.

_“Isaac,”_ Gavin groaned against the mattress. “I… y’ feel so… _good_ …”

“Hm,” Isaac murmured, as he pressed his lips to the last scar on Gavin’s back. Gavin lay under him, trembling, panting against his pillow, his hips rolling just the slightest bit against the bed.

Isaac pulled back, and Gavin whimpered minutely. Heat flooded Isaac, rushing through his mind, his heart, and coiling in his pelvis. He was barely able to hold down a moan as he leaned on one knee and guided Gavin to roll onto his back. Isaac’s breath caught in his chest as Gavin gazed up at him, his eyes shining with love. Isaac drew in a shivery breath.

A smile pulled at Isaac’s lips as he shifted, kneeling between Gavin’s legs. Gavin’s mouth fell open in a moan as Isaac leaned over Gavin and pressed his hips against his.

As Isaac gently shifted his hips forward, sliding his cock past Gavin’s, he pressed his lips to the scar just beneath Gavin’s right collarbone. The skin was cool and soft on Isaac’s lips. He kissed his way up Gavin’s neck, across his jaw – and hovered his lips an inch above Gavin’s.

Gavin whined low in his throat, his eyes darting between Isaac’s, his hands clutching at Isaac’s waist. Gavin rolled his hips harder against Isaac’s, panting softly. The sound flooded Isaac with desperate heat.

Isaac braced his elbows on either side of Gavin’s head and gently cupped his face. Slowly, he pressed his lips to the scar cutting across the bridge of Gavin’s nose, then the one marking his left cheek, then the one stretching from the corner of Gavin’s left eye back into his hair. Then he returned to the one on Gavin’s nose, then his cheek, then his eye. Tenderly, Isaac kissed the scars he’d put on Gavin’s face, over and over and over, nose, cheek, eye. Nose, cheek, eye. Gavin sighed and let his head relax back against the pillows.

“I love you,” Isaac whispered, and finally, _finally,_ brought his lips to Gavin’s.

Gavin groaned under him, jerking his hips up against Isaac’s again, moaning at the friction.

“I… l-love you, you _too,_ Isaac, _fuck_ …” Gavin spread his legs and tilted his head back, breaking the kiss but baring his throat to Isaac’s lips.

“Do you want me again?” Isaac murmured, one hand drifting down Gavin’s side, across the front of his hips, until he took in hand both his cock and Gavin’s and stroked them together. They moaned in tandem, Isaac’s mouth opening against the skin of Gavin’s neck. Gavin reached down and grasped Isaac’s hips, pulling him harder against him.

_“Yes,”_ Gavin whispered, turning his head for another kiss. Gavin’s breath warmed Isaac’s face.

“Like this?” Isaac murmured against Gavin’s lips.

“Y-yes, _fuck,_ any… a-any way you want me,” Gavin panted, and his eyes rolled back as Isaac stroked them both again.

Isaac’s skin could have lit on fire from the need in Gavin’s voice, and the sound of his desperate, pleading breaths. Isaac reached for the nightstand and pulled out another condom.


	38. Exhaustion

Gavin stirred, rolling onto his side and pulling the blankets around him. He was cold; it was already June, but the nights were still chilly in the farmhouse. Gavin thought he could hear someone breathing hard, somewhere in the distance between wakefulness and sleep. His brow furrowed.

He and Isaac had put away the heavy quilt on the bed this weekend, exchanging it for a lighter blanket. He shivered and reached across the bed for Isaac, for his warm body, so Gavin could pull him close and cuddle against his side. He stretched his hand out farther, his fingers travelling across cold, empty sheets. He strained and splayed his fingers until he reached the side of the bed.

The cold crept inside Gavin and settled in his gut.

“Isaac?” he breathed.

A wordless whimper came from the corner.

Gavin’s heart sunk in his chest. “Oh, no,” he whispered. Carefully, he got out of bed, his bare feet padding on the floor as he made his way to the light switch. He heard the shift of a body against the floor, a sharp jerk of movement away from him. His hand landed on the wall, and he slid it until he found the light switch. The light came on and blinded him for a moment.

He immediately found Isaac. He was huddled in the corner of the room, naked, shivering, his eyes wide and fixed in terror on Gavin. His hand was held aloft in front of him. He was holding a knife.

Gavin’s blood went cold in his veins. If… if Isaac hurt himself, if he _hurt_ himself… But Gavin didn’t smell any blood, didn’t see any garish red smeared on Isaac’s skin.

Gavin shakingly held out his hands to his sides and blew out a slow breath.

“Isaac…”

Isaac flinched back against the corner, the knife held higher in his hand. He cowered away from Gavin, trying to cover himself, taking in deep, hitching breaths.

“P-please,” he whimpered.

“Isaac, you’re…” Gavin wet his lips. “You’re… _safe,_ Isaac, it’s…” _It’s me? He’s probably seeing me right fucking now in my stupid goddamned motherfucking basement._ “Have you… did you… hurt yourself?”

Isaac jerked his head from side to side. “N-no, no, I… I d-didn’t…”

“Isaac, would you…” Gavin swallowed dryly. “Do you… would you like to have some clothes on?”

Isaac stared at Gavin with glazed eyes. He adjusted his grip on the knife and it dipped a little lower. He blinked slowly, and nodded.

“Okay,” Gavin whispered. He turned and went to the wardrobe they shared now. He pulled out two pairs of shorts and two shirts and turned back towards Isaac.

“D-do… do you want me to… to hand them—”

“No,” Isaac croaked. He curled into himself tighter and huddled against the wall.

“O-okay,” Gavin murmured. “Did you… w-want me to… to toss them?”

Isaac held perfectly still, his muscles standing out under his skin, locked in terror. Finally, he nodded.

“Okay.” Gavin took one pair of shorts and one shirt and tossed them onto the floor directly in front of Isaac. His skin burned, the intimacy of his nakedness suddenly too much, like a blaring alarm, like a screaming siren. He stepped back and pulled on the other pair of shorts and shirt.

Isaac watched Gavin carefully as he reached out a hesitant hand to the clothes. He clumsily slipped his legs into the shorts and crouched, working them up over his hips, one hand still holding the knife out in front of him. Gavin watched him pull on the shirt and slip it over his head, frantically yanking it down so his eyes were covered only for a moment. He jerked the shirt down over the scars on his chest and sank back against the wall. The knife shook in his hand.

“Isaac,” Gavin whispered. Isaac whimpered and crushed himself harder into the corner. Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat and took a steadying breath. He tossed about in his mind for what _Gray_ would say. _Gray_ would know what to do. “Um… where are you right now?”

Isaac gulped painfully and blinked tears out of his eyes. They ran down his cheeks and fell onto the shirt he was wearing. “I… um…”

“Are you… are you… with me?”

Isaac’s lips trembled. “I… I… s-saw…”

Gavin’s breath punched out of him as ice twisted in his gut. “Oh… oh, no. Was I… were you… i-in my… my basement?”

Isaac heaved a weak sob. He bit down hard on his lip. “I… I…” He whimpered and swiped the tears from his eyes. “P-please…”

“Oh, fuck,” Gavin whispered, his throat tight. His heart sunk in his chest. He raised his hands and buried his face in them, but not before he saw Isaac flinch at the movement. Tears stung his eyes.

_I don’t have the fucking right to be upset about this._

He sniffled and dropped his hands, willing the tears not to fall. He blinked and swallowed hard. Watching the knife in Isaac’s hands gave him an idea. He turned and went to the wardrobe.

He glanced over his shoulder and watched Isaac watching him, Isaac’s eyes riveted on his hands. He pulled open a drawer and pushed aside his socks, searching for something he’d tucked there a few weeks ago – something that he’d hoped, he’d _hoped_ that Isaac might want to try on him someday when the memories of Gavin’s torture didn’t feel so much like an open wound.

His hand closed on a short length of rope. He turned with it in his hand, and Isaac jerked like he’d been struck.

“N-no,” he whispered, his knuckles showing white on the knife. “Gavin, Gavin _n-no,_ please don’t… don’t t-tie me, I won’t… I don’t want to… to _hurt_ you, Gavin, _please_ …” He sobbed weakly and shuddered against the wall. “Gavin… Gavin n-no, is this… r-real? Please, please, _no_ …”

Gavin’s throat burned with his tears. He swallowed hard. “Isaac, I’m not… not going to hurt you. Just… just hang on, okay? T-trust—”

_Trust me._

_Maybe I destroyed that forever, the first time I met him._

Gavin blinked tears out of his eyes and tied a loop in the rope. Isaac’s whimpers rose higher, breaking, as he begged Gavin for mercy, all the way across the room.

“Gavin, no, I… I thought… no, no, no, _no, no, no_ this isn’t real, this can’t be real, I—”

Gavin slipped his own hands into the loop of rope. Isaac fell silent. Gavin brought his hands to his mouth and pulled the rope tight with his teeth, fumbling to tie a knot to keep it from loosening. He clumsily managed a double knot and pulled it tight again. Isaac watched him with wide, terrified eyes. Gavin let his hands fall, outstretched in front of him. He took a slow step forward.

“Isaac,” he murmured. He did his best to keep his voice steady, but it shook, just the same. “You’re… you’re safe. You’re up north. With me. I…” Grief knocked the breath out of him, knowledge that this might be the last time he’d ever be allowed to be in the same _room_ as Isaac. What they had, this strange, fragile love between them, was broken, Gavin was sure of it. Where would he go? Who else would take him?

Gavin shook his head and forced himself to focus on Isaac where he shuddered in the corner, his cheeks stained with tears, frantic terror in his eyes. He wet his lips and cleared his throat.

“Isaac, you h-had a nightmare. You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m never going to… to hurt you again.” Another step closer. He had to get the knife, that was all. Once he had the knife he’d leave. He’d go get Gray and explain why he had to leave. Or maybe he’d have Gray help, and slip out while no one was watching.

Gavin blew out a slow breath. He took another step closer. “I just need the knife,” he said softly, and glanced at it in Isaac’s hand. “Can I take the knife? Then I’ll leave. I just… I can’t leave with you still holding it.”

Isaac’s gaze was fixed on Gavin’s bound hands. He was watching Gavin with inhuman focus, a calculation just behind his eyes. Isaac shifted his weight slightly.

Gavin froze. He held his hands up. “Does this make you feel safer?” he whispered.

Isaac exploded out of the corner and tackled Gavin, pinning him to the bed.

Terror clutched Gavin’s chest. Isaac straddled his hips and pinned Gavin’s bound hands down against his chest with one hand. The air froze in Gavin’s lungs as, for a wild moment, he thought Isaac was going to hurt him the same way he hurt Isaac the last night they’d spent together, at his mother’s house, where Isaac had screamed through his gag as Gavin raped him and Leo held him down. He felt the cold, sharp blade of the knife press up underneath his chin.

_He isn’t going to rape me,_ he realized with a stab of despair. _He did this so it wouldn’t make a sound when I fell. He knows how to kill someone quietly._ Gavin whined softly and raised his chin away from the blade.

Isaac’s eyes blazed with rage and fear and he looked down at Gavin where he had him pinned, his cheeks still wet with tears, his chest heaving. Gavin could feel Isaac’s hands shaking, even as his wrists bruised under Isaac’s iron grip.

“Isaac,” Gavin breathed. “Isaac… _please_ …”

Isaac blinked, and confusion twisted his features. The knife eased back, just slightly.

“Y-you’re safe,” Gavin whispered, and his skin ached with loathing. It was _his fault_ Isaac never felt like he was safe. It was _his fault_ Isaac was covered in scars. “It… was a, a nightmare, or a flashback or something. But this… this isn’t a dream. P-please don’t…” His throat constricted with fear. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered. “I’m… it’s… it’s _me,_ I know that doesn’t mean anything, but it’s… it’s _me,_ Isaac. I won’t… won’t hurt you. I… swear to fucking _Christ,_ I won’t hurt you. Okay? That’s why I did this.” He flexed his wrists against the rope, and Isaac leaned harder on Gavin’s chest, pinning his hands down.

“D-don’t,” Isaac whispered, his eyes still streaming tears. “Don’t… move. Please.”

Gavin nodded, then fell still. “Okay,” he breathed.

Isaac was trembling harder now, his gaze darting across Gavin’s face like he was watching himself hold the knife to Gavin’s throat, like he wasn’t in control at all.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin whispered.

Isaac whimpered softly. “F-for what?” he breathed.

Shame struck Gavin in the stomach like a fist. “Um…” His eyes slid shut and sent tears rolling into his hair. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for taking Sam, and taking you, and torturing all of you, and hunting you after, and taking Tori, and letting my mom know Vera was still alive, and letting her capture you, and… and I’m sorry I made you a target up here, and I’m sorry for… for not knowing… _sooner_ what I was. Maybe if I did then you would never have been… been hurt at all…” A sob tore at Gavin’s chest. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tilted his head back against the sheets.

“I’m sorry for liking it so much when I hurt you. And I’m sorry for never trying to find another way to be. I’m sorry that I… I’m sorry for whatever scared you this much. I know it was my fault…” Gavin trembled beneath Isaac. “I _know_ it was me… and I… I wish I hadn’t… done any of it. I wish… I wish you n-never met, met me, so I… so you wouldn’t hurt this much, um, every day.”

Isaac recoiled, the weight on Gavin’s chest easing. “You… you wish—”

Gavin’s eyes flew open and Isaac was staring at him in disbelief and horror. His hand shook, and the knife pulled away from Gavin’s throat.

“I just wish I hadn’t hurt you,” Gavin whispered. He met Isaac’s gaze, _forced_ himself to. He forced himself to look at the pain there, at the terror – and at the growing awareness, the sense that Isaac was falling back into his body. “I l-love you, Isaac. I want to be with you. But… I wish you didn’t hurt like… like this. Whatever that takes.”

Isaac’s hand loosened around Gavin’s and slid down until it gently encircled one of Gavin’s wrists. “You… you _promise…?_ ” His lips trembled. His eyes darted between Gavin’s.

“I _promise,_ ” Gavin whimpered. “I’ll do _anything._ ”

“N-no, I mean…” Isaac wet his lips and whined softly, searching Gavin’s face. “I mean… do you p-promise you… you won’t hurt me?”

_“Yes,”_ Gavin breathed. “I promise. I’ll keep this on, and… I’ll go, I’ll go if that’s what you want—”

“No,” Isaac rasped. He pulled the knife away from Gavin’s throat with a shaking hand. Gavin let out a gasp of relief. “No, d-don’t…” Isaac slumped off of Gavin, staggering away from the bed, and pressed his hand to his mouth. His eyes were fixed on Gavin. “I… oh, _fuck,_ I… I’m so _sorry_ … Gavin…” He looked down at the knife in his hand.

Gavin slowly sat up, watching Isaac carefully. “Isaac, it’s…” He held out his hands, still bound. “It’s okay. Just… please… give me the knife. I don’t want you to… to _hurt_ yourself…”

Isaac numbly looked back up at Gavin. His eyes were wide, his lips trembling. “I… Did I hurt you…?”

“No,” Gavin said softly as he got to his feet, his hands still outstretched. “You didn’t hurt me, Isaac.” His heart pounded in his chest, and his throat tingled where the blade had touched his skin. “Just give me the knife. Then I can… I can do whatever you want.” He took a step closer and reached for the knife. “Just let me…” His hand closed on the handle, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Isaac let him take it. “Okay,” he whispered. He turned and went to the wardrobe. He pulled open Isaac’s drawer of things and dropped the knife inside before closing the drawer.

When Gavin turned back, Isaac was staring at him with shame and horror written plainly across his face. “Gavin, I… I’m so… s-sorry, I… I didn’t… know what was—”

“I know,” Gavin whispered, and cleared his throat. “I know that.”

“I… h-had a dream I was down in your… b-basement, and… and you… said you liked having me with, with Leo, so you—”

“Oh, god,” Gavin whispered, his eyes falling shut. He pressed his hands to his mouth. “Oh, Jesus.”

“So you, you tied me to the, the table you had there and you l-let Leo have me f-first and then… and then you… you t-took me and you h-held the knife to my, my throat and… and you said…” Isaac whimpered. Gavin opened his eyes. Isaac was collapsing into himself, falling apart, _breaking._ He wrapped his arms around his waist and fell a step back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I… I w-woke up and I was in, in bed with you and… and I… I didn’t know where I, I was, it was dark and… and I was, was cold, and I… I thought it was… was _real,_ I didn’t know what was real, Gavin, I didn’t, I’m _sorry_ …”

“It’s okay,” Gavin said, and shivered. “You said you didn’t want me to go. What do you need? Do you want me to… to touch you?” He swallowed.

“No— yes. I… I don’t…” Isaac’s shuddered.

“Do you want to… to sit on the bed, maybe?” Gavin said weakly. “Get under the blanket? Get warm? And I could… I… I can stay like this, as long as you want. Do you want me to sit with you?”

Isaac chewed his lip and slowly nodded.

“Okay,” Gavin breathed. “Let’s… I’ll go… go first.” He walked around the side of the farthest from the door and sat down. “I’ll stay on this side. You get, um… you get as, as close as you want. Okay?”

Isaac nodded again and stood a halting step towards the bed. His gaze flicked between Gavin and his side of the bed, as if measuring the distance. Slowly, painfully, he sat on the edge of the bed. He tightened his arms around his waist and shivered violently.

“H-here,” Gavin whispered, and pulled the edge of the blanket until it came untucked from the mattress. He held it out to Isaac. Isaac wrapped it around his shoulders and huddled against the headboard.

The headboard that Isaac had fucked Gavin against, white-knuckled, not three days before—

But that was over now. For a long time, at least. Gavin cast his eyes down and blinked away his tears.

Isaac drew in slowly, deep breaths as he shivered, his muscles slowly uncoiling until he was slumped against the headboard, his head drooping with exhaustion. Gavin bit down on his lip.

“Better?” he said weakly.

Isaac jerked his head in a nod. “Y-yeah,” he whispered.

Gavin nodded back, his gaze drifting to the wardrobe. “Isaac… where did you get the knife?”

Isaac glanced up at Gavin, guilt lining his face. “I, um… I h-had it.”

Gavin pushed down the dread that rose in his chest. “Um… where?”

Isaac shifted his gaze away. “Um… b-between the mattress and the bedframe.”

The breath rushed out of Gavin’s lungs. “Oh.” He blinked against the fresh tears that blurred his vision. “To protect yourself from… me?”

“No,” Isaac breathed, and his mouth twisted. “No. I don’t carry my gun in the house, and I’ve still been feeling… scared, so…” He raised his gaze to Gavin’s again. “I kept it there so I could… could protect you.”


	39. Forced to Their Knees/Whipped/Abandoned/What's a Whumpee Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here?

_Years ago_

Gavin yawned and politely covered his mouth. His suit was itchy and uncomfortable, the tie around his neck done a little too tight – but every time another guest walked through the front door of his parents’ new house, they squealed and pet his hair and grabbed his face in their big hands and told his mother how _adorable_ he was, how _absolutely darling._

_“He looks just like his father.”_

_“Such a sweet little man.”_

_“I can’t believe how tall he is! He’s just about ready to step into your shoes, hm?”_

He wasn’t. He was eleven, barely old enough to _hurt_ people, let alone run an entire region like his parents did. The idea that all that land and all those people would belong to him one day scared him, more than he could ever say. He didn’t know how to be in charge. He didn’t like wearing suits. He didn’t know how to _do_ all the grown-up things his parents seemed to do so easily.

But his mother liked the suit, and his father would proudly rest a hand on Gavin’s shoulder when he was introduced as his son and heir, so he left the tie alone. He didn’t fidget, didn’t tug at the jacket when it seemed like it was tying his arms down by his sides like a plaything. He held still. He was good.

Besides, playthings never got to wear suits. He was just being ungrateful. And dramatic. That’s what his mother said sometimes when he cried, that he was being _dramatic._

A servant walked by with a tray of figs wrapped in grape leaves with a slab of goat cheese. He snagged one and bit into it, the sweet fruit splitting with the grape leaves under his teeth, the goat cheese swirling through it all. He liked parties because the food was always so _good._ Not that it wasn’t other times, but… there was something special about party food. It was as if every bite was meant to be the best he’d ever tasted.

Another servant, James, wound his way through the crowd of guests, all of them dressed in nice dresses and fancy suits, all of them his parents’ friends. His parents had _so many friends,_ too, far more than Gavin had.

James met his eyes and smiled gently. James was Gavin’s _favorite_ servant. He knew that Gavin loved molasses cookies and mint chocolate chip ice cream and lemon drops. Sometimes he snuck Gavin some when the cook made those things, even when it wasn’t time for dessert. He was holding a tray of little towers made of mozzarella, tomato slices, and a large, green leaf of basil topping each one, drizzled over with aged balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Gavin’s mouth watered as James approached, already lowering the tray for Gavin to take one.

A hand landed on Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin froze, his hand outstretched. James raised his eyes behind Gavin and turned away, taking the tray with him.

Gavin swallowed his brief disappointment and turned to find his father smiling down at him, his hand still heavy and warm on Gavin’s shoulder, even through the layers of the suit. Heat pooled in Gavin’s stomach at the touch.

“Doing alright, champ?” his father said, a smile spreading across his face.

Gavin smiled back. “Y-yeah,” he said softly, barely stifling another yawn. “I’m alright.”

“A little sleepy?” his father tilted his head and his smile grew playful.

Gavin bit his lip. “Um… y-yeah. A little.”

“Hm.” His father checked his watch. “Good lord, it _is_ getting late. Almost ten. You should’ve been in bed an hour ago.”

Gavin’s eyes slid shut for just a moment and he sagged with relief. “Th-thanks, dad,” he murmured, and leaned into the hand still on his shoulder. “Can I go upstairs?”

“Sure, son.” His father leaned down and took both of Gavin’s shoulders in his hands, squeezing gently. Maybe after his parents were done with the party they’d come up and kiss him goodnight. He’d stay up for them, he always did, always hoping they’d come into his room and say goodnight. Sometimes the nightmares wouldn’t be so bad, when they did.

His father gently guided him through the crowd. Gavin couldn’t _wait_ to get back to his room, to take off the itchy, sweaty layers of the suit and change into his pajamas and get in _bed._ Away from all the people with huge smiles and playthings on their arms that talked about scary things like _acquisitions_ and _insurgents_ and _negotiations._ All things that Gavin would someday have to deal with.

But not yet. Not yet.

“Joseph!” a woman’s voice called through the crowd. Gavin’s father stopped and turned to smile at the woman as she pushed through the people, a drink in one hand, a leash in the other. On the other end of the leash was a collared young lady that was older than Gavin. He thought she had to be… maybe sixteen? She shivered in her nice dress and stared at the floor. Her arms were marked with scars, beautiful complicated designs that made Gavin’s fingers itch for his own knife. He stared at her and wondered what she sounded like when she screamed—

“Hello, Beatrice,” his father said warmly. He put his hand gently on her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Lovely to see you. And who is this?” He glanced at the plaything at her side. “I haven’t seen this one on your leash before.” His eyes scanned her up and down and she shrank away from his gaze. Her arms wrapped around her waist and her eyes dulled with fear.

Heat trickled its way through Gavin’s chest, the familiar, warm feeling.

“This is Sadie,” the woman said, tucking a lock of the girl’s dark brown hair behind her ear. The girl shuddered and held perfectly still. “She’s my delight. I got her last spring, and she’s been absolutely _lovely._ ”

Gavin’s father gasped. “Last spring? _Surely_ I’ve seen you more recently than that.”

Beatrice laughed. “Joseph Stormbeck, don’t you act so shocked with me. I know you’ve been so _distracted_ over here in Fort Meyers.”

“Well, yes, but…” His father tilted his head and smiled. “Nothing can excuse an absence _that_ long, darling. I have to rectify that. Colleen and I could have you over for dinner, say… on the 19th? We’ve really only just finished putting the house to rights the way we like it.”

“Ah, yes, Derek and I _heard_ about that terrible group of insurgents who damaged the old house.” Beatrice leaned in close, pitching her voice low, but not so low that Gavin couldn’t hear. “How’s he handling it? That kind of violence, I can’t _imagine_ how a child must cope.”

His father petted his fingers through Gavin’s hair. “He’s handled it just fine,” he said with a smile. “He’s like his father. Takes things in stride.” He grinned down at Gavin, and Gavin found himself grinning back. Then he shifted impatiently, exhaustion dragging at him more every moment.

“And I hear he takes after his father in more ways than one,” Beatrice said with a twinkle in her eye. “I hear he’s shown quite a _talent_ for play.”

His father’s hand slid down to rest against the back of his neck. “He’s everything I could ask for in a son,” his father said.

Gavin’s cheeks warmed at the praise. His eyes flicked once again to Sadie where she stood huddled against her mistress’s side. He wet his lips. If he wasn’t so tired, he might want to play with her, just to see what she was like when she begged him to stop. But his eyelids drooped, and the noise and light of the party seemed louder than it had been before, intruding into his brain and rattling under his skin. He looked up at his father and opened his mouth to ask if he could be excused.

“How about a demonstration?” Beatrice said with a wide smile. She scoffed when Gavin’s father hesitated. “Come now, Joseph, don’t deprive me. I haven’t gotten to see this boy for almost a year, and I haven’t gotten to see some fun in at _least_ a week.” She pouted out her lower lip as she took a sip of her drink. “Joseph, darling, give us a _show._ ”

His father’s jaw clenched as he smiled good-naturedly, his hand gently massaging the back of Gavin’s neck. “Alright,” he said. Gavin’s head drooped, and tears of exhaustion burned in his eyes. “A short demonstration. Then I need to get my boy upstairs and put to bed.”

_“Excellent,”_ Beatrice squealed, as her plaything whimpered softly. She held the leash up in her hand and snapped her fingers. “Who can I hand this off to?”

“Higgins,” Gavin’s father said, and grasped the servant’s arm as he passed. “Take Mrs. Beatrice’s plaything, would you? Tie her…” He looked around for a moment before his eyes settled on the hook in the floor at the base of the grand staircase. He nodded at it. “Beatrice, what do you suggest for such a demonstration?”

“Sadie hasn’t had a good whipping in a while, have you, pet?” Beatrice cooed against Sadie’s ear. The plaything sobbed weakly and turned her head away. Beatrice grabbed her arm and jerked her around to show Gavin’s father her back. It was streaked with old scars, maybe two dozen, from the whip. “I didn’t put the little thing in a backless dress for nothing.” Higgins went to her side and gently took Sadie’s leash. He guided her away from Beatrice, to the bottom of the staircase, where he pushed her to her knees and used the leash to gently, but securely, tie her hands to the hook.

Already, something was different about the party. The energy seemed to crush Gavin, the stares of the guests, the light press of their bodies as they all drew closer to the base of the stairs. They all turned to watch the plaything tied there, murmuring softly to each other, circling like the sharks his tutor told him about, smelling blood in the water.

Someone clapped behind Gavin, and the sound drilled into his head. He winced and wanted to stamp his foot in frustration, in exhaustion. Even the sounds of the plaything’s whimpers weren’t enough to tempt him to really _want_ to stay.

“Oh, are we getting a _show?_ ” Gavin’s mother said, suddenly standing at his shoulder. She kissed his father on the cheek. “Are you doing to show our guests how you handle your playthings, darling?” Her eyes sparkled as she met his.

“No,” his father said with a smile down at Gavin. “Our _son_ will be doing the honors.”

“ _Will_ he now?” his mother said, bending to kiss his forehead. “Is my sweetheart going to make me proud?”

A smile pasted itself across Gavin’s face as another servant appeared, holding his father’s whip. “Y-yes, mom,” he said weakly, desperately, as her smile grew wider.

His mother clapped her hands together. _“Excellent,”_ she sighed.

The servant held out the whip. Gavin’s hand curled around it, his fingers and thumb barely overlapping around the handle. He’d been _hoping_ they would bring him his own, smaller, easier for him to handle. He swallowed hard and walked to stand just behind the plaything.

She was shuffling her knees against the floor, and one of her high-heeled shoes had fallen off. Gavin’s eyes moved over the bare skin of her back, over the scars there, and he felt the stir of heat in his chest that he always did when he was about to hurt someone. He grasped at it, a chill of dread pushing it aside as he considered, for just a moment, just telling his parents he was _tired,_ and he didn’t want to right now, and maybe next time. He cast a glance over his shoulder at his parents. They stood together, their arms around each other’s waists, and smiled brightly at him. His mother had her hand pressed against her heart, almost like…

Almost like she was _proud_ of him.

He swallowed his tiredness, and his nervousness at everyone watching him. Their eyes were all on _him,_ as if they’d devour him, too, as well as the girl shivering and kneeling on the floor. He turned back to the plaything.

She looked over her shoulder at him, pulling weakly at the leash tied around her wrists. Her face was stained with tears, and she was shaking. Gavin licked his lips.

“P-please,” she whimpered softly.

Something inside Gavin blazed with heat, so bright it was almost painful. His hand tightened around the whip and he measured the distance with his eyes.

“Turn around,” he said, and his voice shook.

Sadie shuddered. “Please, _please,_ ” she whispered. “Please, no…” She raised her eyes to Mrs. Beatrice. “Mistress… Mistress _please,_ I’ll be good, please don’t… don’t let him…”

Gavin’s cheeks flushed red. His father’s playthings _always_ obeyed him, _always._ And if he was his father’s son…

“I said _turn around!_ ” he screamed at her, praying his voice didn’t sound to the guests as high and thin as it did to him.

The guests around him laughed and cheered him on.

“ _Fierce_ little Stormbeck! Joseph, you should be so proud.”

“That’s right, set that little bitch straight!”

“Oh, look how good he is with them. Colleen, dear, don’t you think it time he had one of his own?”

His mother laughed. “Sandra, Gavin is a little young to give his playthings the type of treatment that _ours_ receive from us,” she said with a knowing wink. Gavin had no idea what she meant. He wasn’t too young, he could do _everything_ that his father could, now. Maybe not as well, but just in the past year, he’d learned the knife, the whip, the cane, the blowtorch, and every kind of restraint. He was even learning the complicated knots his father used sometimes, although he didn’t like them much. He learned _everything_ he was taught.

He stung with shame. Maybe he just wasn’t as _good_ at it as his parents. That was probably true. He thrust his chin into the air. He’d just have to try _harder._

He wound up and swung the whip at Sadie. He missed, and it grazed her shoulder. Even so, she jerked back and screamed.

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll turn around, please… please _don’t_ …”

Gavin heaved a quavering sigh of relief as she turned to face the front. He wound up and swung the whip again.

It struck her lower than her dress went, across her hips. She jerked and screamed again, rising up on her knees before she slumped back down to sit on her ankles. She trailed off into a wail and pulled against the leash tying her.

Cold settled in Gavin’s belly. He’d missed, _twice._

“Hm. Your boy could work on his aim, for sure,” Mrs. Beatrice said. Gavin sagged, and his eyes blurred with tears.

His father laughed. Gavin could hear darkness under the surface. “We all could, to some extent. How about this: we let my son make ten good strikes, and let your plaything have a little break. What say you?”

Mrs. Beatrice took a sip of her drink. “I trust you, Joseph. She’s available for your use tonight.”

The cry that rose from the plaything was too _good_ for Gavin to even want to refuse anymore. Besides, he had to make his parents proud. _Had_ to.

He wound up and struck. The whip drew a line of blood straight across the girl’s back. She threw back her head and _screamed._

“Noisy one, isn’t she?” his mother said, smiling, a flush on her cheeks.

“I didn’t want to break her of it,” Mrs. Beatrice said. “Something about this one… her screams are just _delicious_.”

Gavin straightened his back and squared his shoulders. He aimed another blow at the girl. The whip cracked just beside her head. It didn’t even _hit_ her.

She flinched like she’d been hit and whined softly. Sweat prickled under Gavin’s suit.

He tried again. The lash cut across the base of her neck, revealed where her hair had been pulled in front of her shoulders. She shrieked and jerked against the leash.

“Oh, does that one count?” Mrs. Beatrice said, tilting her head this way and that. “I mean, it’s _close_ —”

“No,” his mother said, familiar coldness finally finding its way into her voice. “It doesn’t.”

Gavin forced down a whimper of his own and tightened his hand around the whip. He swung it – and huffed out a breath of relief when it tore across her back.

“That’s two,” his father said in his deep, smooth voice.

Gavin wound up and struck again.

“Three.”

Again. The whip left a trail of blood along her arm. Sadie was sobbing incoherently now, begging wordlessly, lurching forward with each gasping breath.

Gavin’s arm was beginning to ache. Sweat shone on his face.

Again. The blow was a glancing one, but it still cut the skin of the plaything’s back. Gavin held his breath, waiting for his father’s voice.

“Four.”

Gavin trembled as he raised the whip again. He lashed it across Sadie’s back. It cut _deep_ into her flesh, so deep Gavin could see the meat underneath, like when he cut someone deep enough. Sadie’s scream tore the room apart. For a moment, the comforting glow of pleasure pushed away his cold dread, and he smiled.

“Five.”

The next lash fell against the back of Sadie’s head. The next, the empty air next to her shoulder. The next, across her bare foot. Sadie jerked her foot forward with a shriek and sobbed when her knee drilled into the marble step in front of her.

His father turned to Mrs. Beatrice, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “If you don’t want to subject your plaything to the full ten,” he said with a smile, “I can bring up my own from downstairs. A new one.” His smile fell slightly. “Not as good as the last, but… good enough, I suppose.” He shrugged.

Mrs. Beatrice waved her hand. “Oh, no, go right ahead with mine. I’d prefer to leave with a _live_ plaything by the end of the night, but, truly, do what you wish. Her sister is fun as well, although little Sadie begs and begs me to spare her. It’s time I use her for a time, I think.” She leaned in conspiratorially to murmur to his mother. “Younger. Just as lovely, but…” She sighed. “When my Sadie begs me _just_ right, I really can’t deny her anything.” She threw her head back and laughed.

Gavin wound up and struck Sadie again. A new line of red appeared beneath her shoulder blades.

“Six.”

Sadie was gulping, gasping for air, as he cried. Gavin bit down hard on his lip as each sound sparked pleasure in his chest. He desperately let it spread through him, letting its comforting embrace stave off the lurking terror of his parents’ disappointment. He blew out a slow breath and raised his arm again.

The whip cracked against Sadie’s back.

“Seven.”

The muscles in Gavin’s arm burned. He wasn’t used to whipping someone this much in a row, especially not with his parents’ full-sized whip. He was used to the smaller one they’d had made for him when they discovered how much he liked it. This one was heavy, and unwieldy, and he just wanted to go to _bed._

He swung the whip again. He knew before it finished its arc that the blow would miss; he couldn’t even feel dread when it landed across her hips again. Blood was already oozing through where he’d hit her there the first time.

The plaything was slumped over, heaving deep, open-mouthed sobs, as Gavin’s father stepped forward. He set a heavy hand on Gavin’s shoulder and squeezed, just tightly enough that it was no longer comforting.

“Dad,” Gavin whispered, leaning into the touch. “Dad, I’m… I’m _sorry_ … can I go to bed now? Please? I… I’m _tired_ —”

“Three more _good_ strikes and you can go anywhere you want, champ,” his father said with a toothy grin. “Just three more good strikes.”

Gavin sagged and swiped his sleeve across his eyes. “Y-yes, dad.”

“Good boy,” his father said, and stood just behind him, not withdrawing his hand.

Gavin gulped. He raised his arm and struck, savoring the plaything’s scream.

“Eight,” his father said, and Gavin let himself take comfort in the warmth in his voice.

Gavin wound up and struck again. The lash cut the inside of Sadie’s arm, and her voice broke with her scream. Gavin shivered at the slow, disappointed breath his father blew out of his nose.

“That’s why,” his father said, and he reached down, wrapping his hand around Gavin’s. “You’re stopping the swing too soon. Trust yourself. Let it finish.” He drew Gavin’s arm back and sent it forward again. The whip struck Sadie across the middle of her back, drawing a perfect line of blood. Gavin’s stomach sank. “There. That one doesn’t count. Two more, Gavin. Just like I just did.”

Gavin bit his lip, his brow furrowing in concentration. He wound up—

“No,” his father said, turning Gavin’s shoulders slightly. “Like _that._ ”

Gavin’s eyes watered from how hot his face was burning. He drew back his arm and struck Sadie – and the blow landed just between her shoulder blades. She let out an inhuman scream. Gavin rankled with frustration that even the tingling warm of her screaming wasn’t enough to make his strikes _good._

“Just one more, Gavin,” his father said gently. Gavin looked up at him, and he smiled down at him, his face softer than Gavin thought it would be. Gavin nodded and looked once more at Sadie. He wound up and struck. The whip cut deep into her back. Gavin slumped with relief against his father.

There was a smattering of applause, titters of laughter. Gavin’s throat tightened around a sob.

_I did it wrong._

A servant took the whip out of his numb hand. He turned his gaze back on Sadie. She had collapsed against the stairs, blood dripping down her back, and down her arms, where Gavin had missed. He bit his lip.

His father’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Good job, buddy,” he said thinly, turning away, already walking towards another guest. Gavin hung his head and walked timidly to his mother’s side.

“M-mom?” he said softly. “I’m… um, going to bed. When you come upstairs will you—”

“Good night, Gavin,” she said coldly, not even looking his direction.

Gavin’s vision swam with tears as he looked up at her. “Mom—”

She walked away, holding her arms out to embrace another guest, laughing.

Gavin swallowed hard and dashed from the room. He ran up the steps, right past the sobbing, whimpering plaything, and didn’t stop until he was in his room.

He closed the door behind him and clawed at his tie. He ripped it from his neck and stripped the jacket off, this his shirt, then his pants. He didn’t bother picking them up from where they fell on the floor.

He collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands, sobbing until he couldn’t draw breath. He cried noisily, messily, swiping at the tears that streamed down his cheeks. When he looked down at his hands, he saw they were streaked with blood.

Gavin hiccoughed as he pushed himself to his feet and walked stiffly to the bathroom. He washed his hands in the sink, then grimaced when he saw he had blood smeared on his face as well. He scrubbed the blood off his skin and walked back to his room, sniffling, trying to pretend he couldn’t hear the noise of the party still going on downstairs.

He pulled on his pajamas and crawled into bed. He left the light on – if his parents came to kiss him goodnight, maybe they’d want it on, so they wouldn’t trip when they came into his room. He huddled under his covers and pulled his pillow against his chest, hugging it tighter when the tears started again. Every second seemed to tick painfully by. His chest ached, even after his sobs eased.

He lay perfectly still, waiting for his parents to come upstairs and kiss him goodnight. He waited long after the house had gone dark and silent.


	40. Blurred Vision/Migraine/I don't feel so well

The room was moving slowly around Gavin, but he was lying still. He blinked his eyes open and winced as even the soft light from the crack in the curtains stabbed into his eyes, feeling like a knife directly into his brain. He squinted and groaned softly as his eyes slowly focused on his own hands, bound in front of him and lying on a pillow, and Isaac, lying next to him on his back, his pinky just touching Gavin’s.

Gavin stirred, and froze as the pain behind his left eye pounded _harder._ His stomach churned. He twisted his hands against the rope and winced as it bit into his skin.

He squinted – why was his left eye so _blurry?_ – and looked at Isaac where he lay. Gavin didn’t want to wake him; he seemed peaceful, relaxed, his mouth open slightly, the muscles of his face soft and loose. Another wave of nausea rolled over him and he squeezed his eyes shut. He gently placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac jerked awake with a gasp, his eyes darting over the room, his right hand curling into a fist. Gavin collapsed against the pillow with a moan. Isaac found Gavin and froze, then relaxed, all at once.

“Hey,” Isaac said, with a soft smile. His gaze flicked to the rope still around Gavin’s wrists. “Oh, shit,” he murmured, and hesitantly reached out. “Can I—”

“Please,” Gavin breathed. “Don’t… don’t feel good.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed as he fumbled at the knot. “Oh. What… what’s going on?”

“Head hurts,” Gavin gasped, as even the act of talking seemed to make the throbbing behind his eye even worse. “Nauseated. Don’t wanna move.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Is it…? Did something…?” Isaac’s hands stopped on the rope. “Are you… _sure_ I didn’t hurt you last night, Gavin?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gavin breathed. “Please, just… f-fuck, _hurts_ …”

“I’ll get Finn,” Isaac said, and Gavin sighed with relief as the knot came away. “Maybe they—”

“Just a headache,” Gavin said tightly. He carefully rubbed his wrists where the rope had cut into them, just a little, while he slept. “It’s… it’s just…” Just the movement of his hands was enough to tip the room around him. He heaved forward, leaned off the side of the bed, and vomited into the small trashcan there. Sweat broke out over his skin.

“I’m getting Finn,” Isaac said in a rush, practically leaping off the bed. He opened the door and disappeared down the hallway. Gavin groaned as he slumped with his head hanging off the side of the bed. As the blood rushed to his head, the pounding grew even _worse,_ although Gavin didn’t know how that was _possible_. He dry heaved once, then retreated back until his head lay against the cool of the mattress. The cool felt good.

“…n’t know what’s wrong,” came Isaac’s voice as he approached their room. “I just woke up and he was—”

“Don’t turn on the light,” Finn said, their voice coming from the doorway.

_Thank god for you, Finn. Please, please don’t turn on the light._

“Oh. I… why, is that…?”

“Just… give me a sec.”

Gavin could hear the soft sounds of padded feet on the floor, but quieter than normal, as if… as if Finn was _trying_ to be quiet. Even so, the sound crawled under his skin and made him feel sick with it. The air moved around him as Finn knelt beside the bed.

“Careful, I…” Gavin’s mouth was numb. “I… I puked.”

“It’s fine,” Finn said, their voice barely louder than a whisper. “Ellis has had morning sickness all week. It’s just puke. You woke up like this?”

“Y-yeah,” Gavin mumbled.

“No recent head injuries?”

“Not… _recently_ …” Gavin laughed, once, then moaned as the pain in his head ratcheted up another notch. “Oh, god.”

Finn huffed out a laugh of their own. “Okay, fair enough. Ever had this happen before?”

“No,” Gavin groaned. “Oh, _fuck,_ what’s…?” He pressed his hands against his head, desperate to push away the pain. “What _is_ this?”

“It’s a migraine,” Finn said gently. Gavin flinched as he felt Finn’s cool fingers against his head, carding gently through his damp hair. He groaned and pushed weakly into the touch.

“F-feels good,” Gavin whimpered. “I’m… s-sorry, I… I don’t know what’s… _happening_ …”

“Honestly, I’m surprised we aren’t all having them,” Finn murmured, a smile in their voice. “They’re a really common symptom of stress. And—”

“You’re the ones who were stressed,” Gavin said, weakly. “You’re the ones who were being tortured.”

Finn blew out a slow breath through their lips. Finally, they turned to Isaac and said, “Please explain to your boyfriend what a dumbass he is. I’m going to get some ice. One of the theories about migraines is that they’re caused by a blood vessel in the brain dilating and putting pressure on the surrounding tissue. Ice on the back of the neck can constrict the—”

“Not a dumbass,” Gavin whispered, trying to ignore how his cheeks flushed. _Isaac’s boyfriend?_ If he didn’t feel so fucking… _sick_ …

“Yeah, sure, Gavin,” Finn said gently, and the air moved again as they stood. Their voice faded until it sounded like they were standing outside the door. “I’ll be right back, Isaac. I’ll bring a clean trashcan and clean that one. I could try to get my hands on some rizatriptan, too. A classmate of mine used to take it for her migraines. It works pretty well, from what I hear. If this is gonna be a regular thing—”

“You mean this is gonna happen _again?_ ” Isaac whispered. “Finn… he… he doesn’t fucking… Finn, just… just tell me what to do. Okay? Just… _tell_ me what to do. He… he takes care of me, all the goddamned _time._ Finn, please…”

“Isaac… breathe. It’s a migraine. It sucks, but it isn’t life threatening, and there are medications that treat it. I can ask Edrissa if she knows any herbal remedies. She might—”

“You… you won’t tell her who it’s for, right? I mean…”

Finn laughed, softly. “I won’t let her poison him, Isaac. No, I’ll say it’s for Ellis. She’s been going absolutely bananaballs over that baby. She’d be happy to help.”

A pause. “…okay. I just… Finn, he… he doesn’t _deserve_ this. After everything he did… I mean, yeah, no _shit_ he was stressed, he walked the fucking wire for three _weeks_ in that fucking nightmare mansion, for _us_. And… this is how he’s repaid?”

“I know. Believe me, I know. We’re all dealing with… various versions of this. Ellis says their morning sickness is _way_ worse than the first two times. I’m pretty sure Tori’s got an ulcer, and Vera’s back pain has been… I mean, yesterday she could barely get out of bed. And… well. You’ve seen Sam. Although they’re getting better every day.”

“Yeah, but… Finn, could… could this be… I don’t know, a result of the head injury I gave him? I mean, that was almost a year ago now, but… could something that long ago be causing it?”

Gavin’s chest ached at the guilt in Isaac’s voice. He wanted to call out to him and tell him no, this wasn’t from the head injury, he was _sure_ of it… but he felt if he raised his voice, his brain would catch _fire_ and come melting out his ears like hot cheese. The thought made him gag.

“I… don’t think so. I mean… yeah, _technically,_ it could be from that, but it’s way, way more likely that it’s from the stress. I mean… don’t tell Ellis I said this, but… I’ll never doubt his place in the family again, because of how much he sacrificed for us. His mother would have skinned him _alive_ if she ever got even a hint that he wasn’t hers, and that he still cared about us. And he did all that anyway. It would have been… much, much easier for him to just go with it, and let her kill us one by one. I mean, she might have still killed him, but she might not. And he would be… I mean, fuck, Isaac, he was… tortured. And the torture he put _himself_ through, lying for us… what he made himself do to _you_ …”

“I know,” Isaac said brokenly. “There’s… no way I could ever thank him enough for what he did for us. For… for _me._ ”

“You have a lifetime to try, Isaac.”

For a moment, the pain faded, pushed right out of Gavin’s head by his shock. He’d _hoped_ they’d let him stay, but there was some small part of him that believed they were only letting him stay until rumors of their survival had faded, and he could be released again with minimal risk. He’d hoped they’d want him, as part of their family. He’d hoped Isaac would let him stay by his side.

The pain rushed back in and Gavin whimpered softly. Finn and Isaac were silent for a moment. The smell of his vomit was making him sick. He pressed his face against the mattress.

“You… you think he’d want me for that long? A lifetime?”

Finn sighed. “You’re _both_ dumbasses. _Yes,_ Isaac, I do. You’re… you’re literally the first person to ever show him what love looks like. You think he took you just for shits and giggles? I mean, for that reason, too, but… I think he wanted to see what it was that made you so special that you’d give yourself up for Sam.”

“I’m not special. Anyone else would have—”

“You are to _him,_ Isaac. And to the rest of us, too, but _absolutely_ to him. Now… let me go get some ice, okay? I can grab the trash can in a sec.”

“No, I… I can do that,” Isaac said, his voice low and gentle. “It’s fine.”

“…okay. Well, I’ll be back. Grab the trashcan from the bathroom.”

“Yeah.”

The voices faded. Gavin floated in the pain, every heartbeat grabbing him and pulling him back down into his body. The room moved slowly around him, the sour smell of his own sick rankling in his nose. There was a rustling, and when Gavin peeled his eyes open, there was a fresh trashcan on the floor beneath him. He sighed and pulled the covers up over his head.

After a long moment, several minutes or several hours, he couldn’t tell, he felt the mattress dip as someone sat next to him. The blanket was drawn back from over his head, and a cool compress settled on the back of his neck. He groaned softly as the cool pushed away the nausea for a moment.

“Thanks, Finn,” he whispered. Then, fingers trailed gently through his hair, and he whined softly. He’d know that touch _anywhere._ _“Isaac,”_ he murmured.

“Yeah,” Isaac said softly, his hand moving slowly across Gavin’s forehead. “I asked Finn to let me bring you the ice.”

“Mmm,” Gavin moaned, and his eyes slid shut again. “Thank you.” His left eye ran tears into the sheets.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” Isaac whispered. “I… didn’t know what you needed.”

“Neither did I,” Gavin mumbled. “Ice is good, though. And… and you. You’re… good.”

Isaac huffed out a laugh. “Ah. I just brought the ice—”

“But… it feels good. Thank… you.”

Isaac was silent for a moment. “Yeah, Gavin,” he said after a while.

Every heartbeat pounded in Gavin’s head. For a while, the ice helped. Gavin stirred and opened one eye, cringing when the light from the hallway stabbed into his head. “Do you… do you need to do anything else today?” he said weakly.

“I don’t have anything to do but be here with you,” Isaac whispered. “Unless you want me to go.”

“No,” Gavin sighed. “Stay… please?”

Every breath, every second, seemed to move through Gavin in slow motion. He thought back to the headaches he’d had after Isaac put him in the hospital. Those never lasted for very long, because whenever he started complaining of a headache, his mother would give him something that made him sleepy and dizzy, and he’d crawl back to bed and doze until it was over. For the first time since reaching the north, fear sunk into Gavin’s chest that if any of the team got sick – and Finn couldn’t help them – they were hundreds of miles away from the state-of-the-art hospitals that kept him alive when he’d been close to death. He curled into himself and tugged gently on his own hair, desperate for relief.

The compress on the back of his neck began to warm. Gavin whimpered, tears of frustration running from his eyes. He felt trapped in his own head, assaulted on every side by the faint light from the hallway and curtains, and by the sounds of the others somewhere else in the house.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, was a vague memory of another cool hand on his head, a soft kiss in his hair, a low voice, soothing him as he lay in bed. Pain spiked in his head and he shoved the memory away. He didn’t need to think of her, not _now._

Isaac’s hand slid down the back of his head and down his neck, under the compress. “Let me get a new one,” he said softly. The mattress bounced slightly as he stood. Gavin lay still as he walked out of the room, although all he wanted to do was to cling to Isaac, beg him to stay. The headache was getting worse.

A moment later, an eternity later, the mattress dipped again.

“Hey,” Isaac’s voice whispered, and Gavin could have sobbed with relief. “I have some tea… try some?”

Gavin moaned and obediently lifted his head. A cup pressed to his lips and he took a sip. It tasted herbal, sweet, with a hint of spice as well. There was a faint sound as Isaac put the cup on the nightstand.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Something Edrissa made,” Isaac murmured. “Tea with peppermint, lavender, ginger, rosemary, and honey. She said those herbs are good for migraine.” He pressed a fresh cold compress to Gavin’s neck.

Gavin moaned weakly. “She… tell her thank you,” he whispered.

“Hm. Maybe someday,” Isaac said. His voice sounded sad. “For right now… that tea is for Ellis, as far as she knows.”

“I hate lying to her,” Gavin whispered. “If she ever finds out, she’ll… she’ll hate me.”

The unspoken words hung in the air between them: _she already hates you._

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Isaac murmured. “You can tell her once you’re better, if you really want. Right now, let’s just… focus on getting you over this. Finn already called into Burmingham to see if they carry riza— I don’t remember what it’s called. Sounds like they can order it and have it in within a week.”

“Hope I don’t get another migraine before then,” Gavin rasped, and pushed weakly into Isaac’s hands as he stroked his hair.

“Yeah,” Isaac said weakly. “Me… me too.” Isaac’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “Can I… do anything else? For you? I mean… do you need anything else?”

“I just need you,” Gavin whispered, not caring how that sounded. “Can you… can you just… I don’t know. I just want you with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Isaac said gently. His hand moved down to gently massage the back of Gavin’s neck. “Is that… okay?”

“Yeah,” Gavin sighed, and shuddered as another wave of nausea rolled over him. “That’s… that’s good.”


	41. Grief

The first thing Gavin was aware of was light filtering into the room through the curtains. The second was the soft touch of Isaac’s fingers carding through his hair. Gavin sighed and rolled towards his warmth before he remembered moving caused him agony – and relief struck him when his head only throbbed a little bit.

He blinked his eyes open. Isaac was sitting on the bed, fully clothed, gently smoothing Gavin’s hair.

“Ugh,” Gavin mumbled.

“Morning,” Isaac murmured, and bent to gently kiss Gavin’s forehead. “Feeling better?”

Gavin experimentally lifted his head. The room still seemed to push against Gavin, his brain still pressing against the insides of his skull, but his stomach was settled, and his sight was clear. His mouth tasted foul. He was desperately thirsty.

“Um, yeah,” he croaked. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Isaac’s mouth twisted in a sad smile. “I just wanted to check on you before I head out.”

Gavin shifted in the bed and slowly, painfully pushed himself upright. “Why? Where you going?” He rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s about eight,” Isaac murmured. “AM. You slept through the night. Finn said you needed it.”

“Ugh. I’m… I’m sorry about yesterday.” Gavin flushed. Isaac had stayed by his side for hours, changing the trashcan after Gavin vomited up the tea and water he’d slowly been sipping. Isaac had kept the compresses cool and gently massaged the back of Gavin’s neck, when Gavin was aware enough to respond. And…

And Isaac wanted to stay with him for a lifetime.

Gavin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He never thought… never _imagined_ … that Isaac might want him that way, too.

“Hey, it’s…” Isaac’s hand curved along Gavin’s jaw. “It’s okay. I was, um, happy to… to do it. For you.” Isaac wet his lips and glanced at the floor. “I’m headed into Burmingham. They’ve got some migraine pills, something with Tylenol and aspirin and caffeine, I think. If you have another migraine before the ri— before the stronger stuff gets in, this will hold it off. And we’re low on food. We need a few things.”

“Oh,” Gavin said flatly. “Um… I w-wish I could, um, come with you, but… I just… don’t feel right, still.”

“…and you’re supposed to be dead,” Isaac said gently.

Gavin’s eyes slid shut. “Right. That, too.” His hand crept out across the sheets and settled on Isaac’s knee. “Be safe.”

“Always try to be,” Isaac said with a wry smile. “Sometimes shit finds me, you know?”

Gavin bit his lip. “I know. But… please… please try.”

_Please come back to me. I worry every time you leave._

“Yeah, Gavin. I… I will.” Isaac leaned in and softly kissed the scars on Gavin’s nose, cheek, and eye. “Vera and Tori are coming, too. Gray’s headed into Crayton today. They got a call about a refugee. And Finn and Ellis are gonna be out, too. They wanted to walk south, see if any of the properties that way are occupied.”

“Will… is that safe? With… with the baby?” Gavin glanced up at Isaac.

A slow smile spread across Isaac’s face. “Yeah. Ellis will be fine. They’d punch you for being concerned.”

Gavin huffed out a weak laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “So… Sam and Edrissa? They’ll be home?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said. His hand found Gavin’s and gave a quick squeeze. “I’ve gotta go. Vera and Tori are waiting for me. I just wanted to check on you and make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m good,” Gavin said, and pushed back the covers. “I think I’ll take a shower. And get some water.”

“Just relax today,” Isaac said as he stood. “Finn said the migraines can be caused by stress. Just rest.”

“Yeah,” Gavin groaned as he stretched. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, and paused. He quickly stooped and pressed a kiss to Gavin’s cheek, before he straightened with a smile and hurried from the room.

Gavin watched Isaac go, and stared through the doorway for a long while after he left. He drew a hand through his hair and sighed. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and swayed for a moment, putting out a hand to stabilize himself.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. He had to brush his teeth first. Then water, then food. Then shower. He wandered out of his room to the bathroom.

The walls seemed to wobble slightly around him as he made his way down the hall. He flipped on the bathroom light and flinched at the flash of white light that burst inside his head. He peeled his eyes open and stepped up to the sink.

He kept his eyes down from the mirror. Even though it had been weeks, he just… _couldn’t_ bring himself to look in the mirror. He didn’t know what he would see, and it didn’t matter if he didn’t look. He wet his toothbrush, smeared on a bit of toothpaste, and brushed his teeth. It felt _good_ to scrub away the taste in his mouth. When he was done, he bent to take a swallow of water, then another, then another. His throat ached with thirst. He wiped his mouth and wandered into the kitchen.

He pulled a cup down from the cabinet and filled it in the sink. He took a drink, then another, then another. Soon, the cup was empty. He filled it again, and drained it. He looked into the sink and wondered if he could find the tea Edrissa made for him – for Ellis – yesterday.

“Gavin?”

He jumped and whirled around. Edrissa stood in the doorway to the living room, her hands behind her back, looking steadily at Gavin.

Gavin swallowed thickly. “Um… h-hi, Edrissa.”

Edrissa shifted her weight. “Um, hi. Can I… can I ask a favor?”

Gavin gulped and stared at her, bewildered. “Um… yeah?”

Edrissa gave a curt nod and walked through the kitchen and out into the laundry room. She pushed the door open to the outside and disappeared into the yard. Gavin blinked once, and hurried to follow her.

She was halfway across the yard. The sun was already high in the sky, burning away the mist from the night before. Gavin’s stomach bucked as the ground dipped under him. He stumbled after her as she headed towards the barn.

She pushed back the door and glanced behind her to make sure Gavin was still there. He followed her in and stopped just inside the doorway.

“Edrissa, um, h-hey. What… what do you need? Where’s Sam?”

“They’re still sleeping,” she said airily. “And, um, I needed… I couldn’t reach something. There’s a basket on that shelf that I wanted to get.” She pointed at a row of shelves along the wall. There was a woven basket on the top shelf, far out of her reach.

Gavin gave her a hesitant smile. “Oh. I…” A trickle of warmth moved through his chest, surprise and relief and gratitude that Edrissa – _Edrissa,_ of all people – would want his help with something. He turned and walked to the shelf. He had to stretch up on his toes to reach it. His hands closed on the rough wicker rim of it and he turned around to hand it to her.

She was already at his side. She grabbed his arm, twisted, and flipped him over her leg. The basket flew from his hand.

He landed hard on his back. It knocked the wind out of him and he gasped, mouth gaping, his chest aching for air.

Edrissa was on top of him in an instant, straddling his hips. Before he could draw air to ask what the _hell_ she was doing, she had a knife to his throat, pressing up under his chin.

He froze. She stared down at him, her eyes blazing with rage and hate.

He finally dragged in a breath. “Edrissa,” he whispered. “What… what are you—”

_“Shut up,”_ she hissed. Her hand fumbled in his hair and she clumsily jerked his head back. “You, you might have the, the others fooled, but _not me_.”

A chill moved down Gavin’s spine. His heart pounded in his chest. “Edrissa… I… I don’t know what you’re—”

“Syndicate _shit,_ ” she spat. “You, you betrayed them all down south, didn’t you? You… you handed them over to your, your _mom,_ didn’t you?” Her voice rose to a furious, ragged shout.

“No,” Gavin whispered. He winced as the knife’s jagged edge bit into his skin. Tears formed in his eyes. His hands jerked upwards to grab the knife, grab _her._ He shuddered as a wave of poisonous rage punched through him, filling him up, making him want to throw her off of him and pin her down, hold the knife to _her_ throat, make _her_ feel afraid.

_No._ He pushed down the rage, the vicious desire to make her hurt and bleed and _beg_ him for mercy. He forced his hands down and pressed them flat against the floor. _That’s not who I am anymore._

“ _I_ know what you are,” Edrissa snarled. “ _I_ know. I know you’re an evil syndicate _shit_ and you can’t change. You can’t stop hurting people. Can’t stop _killing._ ”

“I haven’t killed anyone in—”

Edrissa yanked at his hair. _“Shut up,”_ she whimpered, her voice tight with tears. “Shut, _shut up._ You— I can’t believe _Isaac_ can’t see it. He… he should _hate you._ They all should.”

Gavin’s eyes fluttered closed. “I know,” he whispered.

Edrissa paused. Gavin opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, holding perfectly still. Two tears ran into his hair. The knife trembled against his throat.

“You… you shouldn’t have come back _alive,_ ” she hissed.

“I know,” he said weakly.

Edrissa’s face twisted with hate. She pressed the knife harder against his throat. He flinched and forced his hands down harder against the floor. “There’s… there’s nothing good inside you. There’s nothing but evil. You c-can’t change, you can’t be… be _redeemed._ Syndicate bastards don’t _change._ ”

Gavin pushed out a shuddering breath. “No,” he whispered. “That’s… that’s not true.”

_“Yes it is!”_ she shrieked at him. “You’re all bad, every single _one._ You all hurt and rape and… and _kill_ …” She gasped and hitched a shaking sob. “You don’t know how to _be_ anything else. And I… I _know_ it.” A tear trailed down her cheek and fell onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin breathed. “I’m sorry that happened to you. But it… it wasn’t—”

“I said _shut up!_ ” she sobbed, her face contorted with rage. “I’m… I’m going to kill you, _Gavin Stormbeck._ I’ve been training for weeks. I know how to _kill you._ ”

Gavin’s stomach lurched. Terror caught in his throat. He could do it, he could tear the knife from her grasp and hold it to her throat. He could cut her, tear into her, lay open her flesh until her screams tapered into dying gasps. He’d done it before. He could make her pay, make her _suffer._

_No. I’m different. For Isaac. For the others._

_For me._

“P-please don’t,” he whispered.

Edrissa blinked. Her hand tightened in Gavin’s hair and she jammed the knife harder against his throat. The serrated edge caught the skin there, but it was dull, not quite breaking through. He hissed in a breath and trembled under her hands.

“Are you… are you going to stop me, syndicate _shit?_ ” she whispered, sounding full of rage. Sounding _hopeful._

Gavin weakly shook his head, the pain still pounding weakly behind his left eye. “No,” he murmured.

Edrissa’s breath froze in her chest. “Well you… well you _should._ I… I’m going to _kill you,_ Gavin Stormbeck.” She whimpered, and her hand tightened around the knife.

“My name is Gavin Uriah,” Gavin whispered.

For a moment, neither moved. Gavin lay still, muscles locked, under Edrissa. She trembled as he held Gavin down, the knife still poised at his throat.

“Y-you should stop me,” she whispered. “You should try to, to _hurt_ me. I’m a plaything, right? I _deserve_ to be hurt.” Her lip curled. Her voice lashed him, bitter and poisonous.

“You’re not,” Gavin said evenly, and shook his head. “I’m sorry you ever were. It’s not right. You didn’t deserve it. No one does.”

Edrissa sobbed, helpless. “But I do _now,_ right? I _deserve_ it. For, for saying I’m going to kill you. I should be _punished_ for it. I should… I should _die._ ” Her eyes blazed as she leaned over Gavin, tears running down her cheeks.

“No,” Gavin whispered. “You don’t deserve that.”

Edrissa’s chest heaved with shuddering breaths as her hand tightened in Gavin’s hair. Then, her pain dropped away. Her eyes went dead. She leaned back and held the knife to her own throat. It was a steak knife, heavy and dull, the worn wooden handle held tight in her grip.

“Stop me, Stormbeck,” she said flatly. “This is how you stop me. If you don’t do it, I’m going to kill you.”

Gavin bit his lip and shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “I won’t. My name is _Uriah._ ”

Edrissa snarled and grabbed at Gavin’s wrist. She jerked his hand up off the floor and forced it around the handle of the knife. She wrapped her hand around his and forced the blade against her throat. “Do it,” she hissed. “Syndicate _shit._ ”

Gavin met her eyes. He ached at the depth of hate there, of pain. Of loss. Two years of her life, her childhood, her innocence, her _brother._ All dead, killed by syndicate hands. Taken and broken, just like Gavin had done with so many lives.

She could be just another life to end. Gavin could press the knife in, rip it through her throat, bleed her out over his hands, watch her die on the floor here. He could tell the others it was self-defense. It _would_ be.

Gavin set his jaw. _“No,”_ he said, fiercely. Evenly.

Edrissa’s eyes went wide. Her hand slipped from around his. He pulled the knife away from her throat.

She buried her face in her hands and _wailed._

Gavin tossed the knife away. It skittered into the corner and hit the wall with a light thump. He shifted, rolling slightly to the side, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to ease her off of him. She slumped to her knees and sobbed into her hands, her voice echoing through the barn, her sorrow, her pain, all tearing free at once. Gavin pushed himself backwards on his hands until he was out of her reach. He wrapped his arms around his knees and shivered, his eyes still fixed on her as she fell apart.

“Why won’t you do it?” she sobbed, not looking at him.

“Because… because I don’t want to,” he said, doing his best to make his voice gentle, panting with relief.

“But you’re… you’re a _Stormbeck,_ ” she wailed. “You’re one of _them._ You can’t… why won’t you _hurt me?_ It’s what you… what you _are._ ”

“Not anymore,” Gavin said, his voice tight with tears. “That’s not what I am at all. I’m… I’m not a Stormbeck. I’m Gavin Uriah. I’m not… like that anymore.”

“But _why?_ ” she whimpered. She shivered and squeezed her arms around her waist.

Gavin swiped the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, finally.

Edrissa rocked herself, her eyes unfocused and faraway. “You k-killed my brother,” she whispered.

Gavin opened his mouth to defend himself, to tell her it wasn’t _him._ It wasn’t _his family._

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter to her. It didn’t matter at all.

“I… I was happy,” she whispered. “With my… my parents. I was happy. With Micah. I had… I had a boyfriend.”

Gavin’s eyes slid shut. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I… h-had a _cat,_ ” she whimpered. Her voice broke. “I had… a, a _life._ ”

Gavin kept silent. The weight of her sorrow crushed him, pounded in his head. He rubbed at the scratch the knife had left on the soft skin of his throat.

A sob rippled over her shoulders. “I… I just want to stop _hurting_.” She bit down on her hand and wailed her grief.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Edrissa sobbed, incoherent words falling from her lips. The sound of her cries shook the air inside the barn. Gavin winced as it pressed against the inside of his skull. He buried his face in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

She could kill him like this, if she wanted to. He couldn’t make himself open his eyes. He sat there with her in the cool air of the barn, feeling the ache in his chest. Savoring the air in his lungs. Savoring his life.

Her sobs faded to hitched whimpers. Her whimpers faded to slow, shivering breaths. She raised her eyes and looked at Gavin. For once, for the _first time,_ her eyes weren’t dark with hate and mistrust. She stared at him with fragile, questioning vulnerability. Her gaze landed on his throat, on the scratch there.

Her eyes went wide with horror. She cringed into herself and dragged in a shuddering gasp.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “N-no, I…”

Gavin swallowed hard. “What?”

“Isaac,” she whimpered. “Isaac’s going to _kill me._ ”

Gavin’s brow furrowed. “What… Edrissa, _why?_ ”

She raised a shaking hand to her neck. “I… He… he’s going to, to _know_ that I… and then he…” She pressed her hand to her mouth and sobbed helplessly, her eyes wide and staring at nothing. “He… he’s going to… he almost did, be, before…”

“No,” Gavin croaked, rubbing harder at the scratch. The skin didn’t even feel broken. “No, he’s not.”

“He will,” Edrissa whispered into her hand. “When he comes back. I… both the cars are gone, I can’t… can’t _run_ …”

“He’s not going to kill you, Edrissa,” Gavin said softly. “Because he’s not like that.”

“Y-yes he _is,_ ” she said through her teeth, her eyes desperate. “He… he’s a _killer._ ”

Gavin’s throat bobbed. His lips trembled, and he pressed them together. “Well… yeah. He is. But he won’t kill you. You’re in the _family._ And he won’t know, because—”

“He _will_ —”

“—I’m not going to tell him.”

Edrissa caught her breath and raised her eyes, fogged with terror, to Gavin’s. _“What?”_ she whispered.

Gavin chewed his lip. “I’m not going to tell him. He doesn’t need to know. Nothing happened, right?”

Edrissa stared at Gavin, trembling, her mouth slightly open. “I… _what?_ ”

Gavin shrugged jerkily. “Nothing happened. We talked. We figured some shit out. Right? Nothing bad happened.”

Edrissa’s hand drifted to her neck. “But you—”

“That could have happened so many different ways,” Gavin said, his voice tight. “Shaving accident. Picked up the cat and he didn’t like it. Walked into a door.” His lips pulled into a half-smile. “Or I don’t have to say anything.”

“H-he’ll ask—”

“So what if he does? Edrissa…” She went still at her name. He shook his head. “I’m not… g-going to let… anything bad, um, happen. To you.”

Her lips twisted in an echo of bitterness.

Gavin hung his head. “Okay… yeah. Bad choice of words. All I’m saying is…” He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not going to tell Isaac what happened. And even if he knew, he wouldn’t kill you. I mean…” Gavin laughed, dryly. “After everything _I’ve_ done to him…”

“But it’s different,” she mumbled. “Because you’re…”

“Yeah,” Gavin said with a heavy breath. “Because we.”

They were both silent for a long time. Finally, Gavin stirred. “Um… do you want some… some breakfast? Or tea? Or… I can make eggs benedict—”

“No thank you,” Edrissa said quietly, her eyes cast down to the floor.

Gavin’s shoulders slumped. “Right. Um, well… I’m… kind of hungry. I want to go make something. Will you… are you… okay?”

She wiped her nose and glanced up at him. “Yeah.”

Gavin held still. “Okay. Can you… not try to kill me again?”

Edrissa barked out a painful-sounding laugh. “Yeah.”

Gavin bit his lip. “…promise?”

She tossed her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Gavin breathed. “Can I… g-get the steak knife, then?”

She glanced into the corner where Gavin tossed it. “Yeah. I’ll, um… I’ll come inside in a while. I just want to be alone right, um, right now.”

“Okay.” Gavin got to his feet and fell a step back from her. “Um… I… I h-heard you made some, um, really good tea for Ellis. Can I, um, have some?”

She tipped her head back and raised an eyebrow. “I know it was for you. I’m not an idiot.”

Gavin blanched. “Oh. Right. Um…” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, thanks for not, um, poisoning it or something.”

Edrissa looked at him impassively for a moment. “Yeah,” she finally whispered.

“Okay, well… I guess I’ll… go.” He turned and shuffled towards the barn door. On his way out, he stooped and picked up the knife.

“Thank you,” Edrissa called out behind him, tears tight in her voice.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Thank you, too.”


	42. On the Run/Dirty Secret/I Think I'll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks

Gray picked up the cell phone on the seat next to them and flipped it open. The car jolted as they rolled through a pothole, bigger than it had been before spring arrived. Gray flipped open the phone and went to the last message they’d received.

_Come to Crayton asap. Have news about a refugee. Keep this private. Call when you enter the town._

They selected the number and hit the button to dial it. They held the phone to their ear as it rang. The clear blue sky stretched above them as they drove through the farmland that bordered the town on all sides, the plots spread out enough so as not to crowd each other, but close enough that they were in sight of each other.

The people up here kept each other safe. They watched each other. They took care of each other.

The phone rang once. For the dozenth time since Gray had left the house this morning, they wondered, dimly, if this was a _trap,_ of all things. Called to a stranger’s house in the middle of the north, the remnants of the Stormbeck territory burning several hundred miles to the south, to be caught in some sort of _plot._

The phone rang a second time. Gray chuckled. Plots and conspiracies and secrets were all a little above their interest anymore. Caring for their family was its own full-time job.

Someone picked up in the middle of Gray’s chuckle. They cut themself off and cleared their throat. “Hello?” they said, trying to keep their voice even.

_“Mx. Gray Uriah?”_ a nervous-sounding man’s voice said on the other end.

Gray swallowed. “This is they.”

_“Oh.”_ A sigh of relief. _“Good. Are you by yourself?”_

Gray’s hand tightened on the wheel. “I am. What’s going on?”

_“I, um…”_ A slow, shaking breath. _“We should really talk about this in person. I need you to come straight to my house. 913 East Holter Lane. It’s off Cherry and ninth. There will be a garage open. Drive into it. I’ll lower the garage door, and we can talk.”_

Gray laughed delicately. “No, thank you.”

There was a pause, then a crinkling, like the man was shifting the phone in his hands. _“Wh-what?”_

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I am not about to drive into a stranger’s garage with no explanation. Especially for something so clandestine that I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone I was coming. Now.” Gray pulled onto Main, and shops rose on either side of them. “We don’t have to share details. But I _do_ need to know what it is I’m getting myself into before you close that door. This is about a refugee?”

The man paused, and Gray could hear him breathing on the other line. _“Yes,”_ he said, the relief faded, with fear replacing it.

“Alright. Did something happen? Is someone hurt?” In with a slow breath, out with a slow breath.

_“N-no, I… It’s just… please, Mx. Uriah. You and your family are known for, um… d-doing the right thing. And… we need help with this.”_

Gray look a left on ninth. It took them away from the row of shops, and into a neighborhood. Most of the houses were run down, but maintained. Ivy grew on the walls behind gated fences. Each house had a yard, overgrown with bushes, overhung by tall, gnarled trees. It was a street where _families_ lived. 

They wet their lips. “Hm. My family is also known for putting themselves in harm’s way for the ‘right thing.’ Is this something that comes with risk?”

_“I…”_ A sigh. _“I don’t know.”_

Gray’s stomach clenched. “Ah. Thank you for your honesty. I’ll be there in five.”

_“Oh, thank you. Th-thank you. Good. Okay. Five minutes.”_ The man’s voice faded. _“Five minutes. Yeah. Get your stuff.”_ The man’s voice became normal volume again. _“Thank you. Truly. 913 East Holter. We’re the light brown house. The garage door will be open.”_

“Understood. Be there soon.” Gray snapped the phone shut and dropped it onto the seat.

They blew out a slow breath. They wished they’d called before they reached the city, wished they’d _demanded_ to know what was going on before even getting in the car to make the trip. Of _course_ there would be risk to their family. Gray tried to think of what exactly would be so important that the town’s mayor could not be informed. It was obvious that it was Daniel Schiester being kept in the dark about this. Dread prickled on the back of Gray’s neck as they wondered what, exactly, the price would be if this plan, whatever it was, was discovered.

They took a left on Cherry, and saw a street sign for Holter Lane immediately on the right, branching off into a cul-de-sac. Tall trees with wide, newly-leaved canopies cast shadows in the yards. None of the houses were visible from the street. One house, painted light brown brick, had its garage door open. As Gray drove into the driveway, they checked the address. _913._

As they pulled into the garage, they peered around, pushing down their rising nervousness. The walls inside the garage were bare. They turned the key in the ignition and shut off the car.

The door to the house opened, and a man peered out. He hit a button on the wall. The garage door began to close. Gray got out of their car, briefly wishing they’d brought Isaac or Vera with them.

_Isaac is in Burmingham helping Gavin, and Vera—_

_It’s not their responsibility to protect me. They’ve given enough. No matter what, this was my choice._

Gray held out their hands to their sides. The man’s eyes darted between them, then back to their face. He stepped out fully into the garage in his bare feet. He shivered and wrapped one arm around himself. The other he thrust out to shake Gray’s hand.

“Mx. Uriah,” he said, his voice breathy with relief. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Gray tilted their head at the man. He seemed familiar, but Gray couldn’t place him. “You’re welcome,” they said, gently. “Now, I hope, you can be more forthcoming?”

The garage door settled to a stop behind Gray. The garage was lit dimly by the single lightbulb above them. The man nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding quickly. “I’m, um, Mathias, by the way.”

“Good to meet you. Have we, ah… have we met?”

Mathias met their eyes and nodded again. “Y-yeah. You have. The first day you came into Crayton. I was on one of the teams that guided you in.”

Gray sucked in a breath. “That’s _right,_ ” they murmured. Mathias had been one of six people to stand by the team, heavily armed, while Daniel Schiester introduced himself and discovered Gavin among them.

Mathias had also been one of the only guards who didn’t take the opportunity to beat Gavin while he had the chance. Gray’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

“So there’s, um… a lot to explain.” Mathias glanced at the floor. “I’ve been, um…” He shrugged and rubbed his arm. “I… shit. You know Mr. Schiester helps process the refugees that come through Crayton.”

“Yes,” Gray said, nodding. “I’ve helped him several times. It’s very energy-intensive work.”

“Yeah, it is,” Mathias said distractedly. “Um. Well, I… I had one come through early this morning. Young kid. And I… well, maybe you should just meet him.” The man turned and called into the house. “Hey, Zach! Uh— Zachariah. Come on. They’re here.”

Gray watched as a young man stepped into the doorway. His head was bent, his warm brown skin streaked with mud and something Gray strongly suspected was blood. He clutched a filthy backpack over his shoulder like his life was contained inside. He kept his eyes down at the floor, trembling, as he shuffled out into the garage. His lip was split. The knuckles on his right hand were bloody.

A breath rushed out of Gray’s mouth. “Oh,” they whispered.

Zachariah lifted his gaze to Gray. He met their eyes for a moment before he shifted them back down again. “M-Mx. Uriah,” he said softly.

“Zachariah,” Gray answered. They held out their hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

Zachariah took Gray’s hand and shook it once. “Th-thank you.” He pulled back his hand and buried it in his pocket.

Gray looked sideways at Mathias. He chewed his lip. “I, um… found him during processing. You know that screening form we use.”

“I do,” Gray said gently.

“Well…” Mathias rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s, um… the kind of thing we screen for.”

Gray’s head snapped to look at Zachariah. “Why is that?” they said, tension tightening in their voice.

Mathias nodded at Zachariah. “Show ‘em,” he mumbled.

Zachariah threw a terrified glance at Gray. He reached for the sleeve of his t-shirt – the kid was out here in only a _t-shirt_ – and rolled it up.

The Stormbeck crest was tattooed across the top of his arm.

Gray fell back a step, their eyes riveted on the stylized raven’s head, the vines surrounding it. Their gaze snapped to Mathias. “So he’s—”

“Just a _kid,_ ” Mathias said, meeting Gray’s eyes and taking a protective step in front of Zachariah. “And you need to listen to him.”

Gray wet their lips and nodded slowly. _We’ve got our own ex-syndicate boy._ “Alright,” they said, and their voice sounded more steady to them than they felt.

Mathias nudged Zachariah with his elbow. Zachariah shuffled his feet and stared at the floor. “Um…” He shivered, and goosebumps raised on his arms. “I… I was a, um, a-a guard. In Colleen Stormbeck’s house.”

A chill twisted in Gray’s stomach, but they stayed silent.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to… to _be_ there. But they said it would just be security. They said they’d pay me well, and they’d completely taken over the jobs in Fort Meyers… There was no way to _get_ a job in Fort Meyers without them _assigning_ you one. I needed… Mx. Uriah, _please,_ I h-had to…”

“Were you there with my family?” Gray said through their teeth. “Did you ever hurt any of them?” Their right hand curled into a fist. Their knuckles cracked.

_“No,”_ Zachariah whimpered. “I… I was on the unit that guarded them when they first came in. But I never… n-never hurt them. I transferred as soon as I could. I worked the other side of the house, at the front door. “I…” He whimpered again, tears shining in his eyes in the dim light in the garage. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. They said it was _security_ …”

“How long were you there?” Gray said flatly.

“A m-month. I was hired a, a week or two before they showed up. And I left, um— the d-day she was killed.”

Gray’s eyes went wide. “And it took you… _twenty-four days_ to make it north?” Their heart squeezed painfully in their chest.

“Ah… y-yes, Mx.,” Zachariah said. “It was… a h-hard road. I walked, um, a lot of the way.”

Gray pursed their lips and gestured at his arm. “Why did you get that tattoo? _When?_ ”

“Um…” Zachariah swallowed and looked down at the sleeve of his shirt. “They, um, s-strongly recommend we, uh, get them. I got it the day after I was hired. They say it, um, distinguishes us.”

“Like a brand,” Gray breathed.

Zachariah froze, his eyes wide. “What?”

“That’s like a brand. They’re convincing their battle fodder to put that mark on themselves.” Zachariah flinched at _battle fodder._ Gray’s face softened. “Apologies. I… um…” They blinked and folded their hands. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

Zachariah sagged with relief. He looked at Mathias, and Mathias nodded at him. Then he turned to look at Gray again.

“What do you need from me?” Gray said, looking at Mathias. “What do you… what does this all _mean?_ ”

Mathias chewed his lip. “I’ve been on Mr. Schiester’s payroll for… a long time.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Long enough to know that, uh… when we come across people like, like _him_ …” He nodded at Zachariah. “…kids who got caught up in the wrong jobs, people with syndicate associations who are just looking for freedom, those sorts… they get, um… rough treatment, through the placement process. And I just…” He glanced at Zachariah. “With his, ah, associations, and _that_ …” He glanced at Zachariah’s arm. “…I knew he’d have it rougher than most. And, I mean… Look at him. He’s been through enough.”

Gray blew out a breath through their nose. Their eyes moved over Zachariah, taking in once again the blood crusted on him, his tattered clothes, the way he trembled under Gray’s gaze. They set their jaw.

“What do you need me to do?”

Mathias’s eyes slid shut as he sighed. “Just house him, just for a few weeks. I’ve been sending my…” Mathias giggled. “I’ve been calling them my own ‘rescues,’” he said, looking nearly delirious with relief. “I’ve been sending my rescues through a friend north of you. I’ll need to secure housing for him, but it’ll take some time. I just need to know he’s safe. I can’t keep him here.” Mathias glanced around his garage. “Too many eyes. Too risky.”

“I think I understand,” Gray said, and placed a gentle hand on Mathias’s shoulder. “And I think I can help.”

Zachariah’s eyes flicked up to Gray’s. “You _can?_ ” he breathed. He looked like he was about to fall over. “Thank… _thank you._ ”

Mathias rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get him going, then,” he said quickly. “Zachariah, you should sit in the back. At least until you get out of town. Thank god you don’t have to go in the trunk.” Mathias laughed again, high-pitched and frantic, and Gray was beginning to wonder exactly how _rough_ a treatment Zachariah would receive if he was found out before they left the city.

Or Mathias, for that matter.

“Mathias,” they said gently. Mathias immediately stopped laughing. His hands shook. “What happens to _you_ if you’re found out?”

“Oh.” Mathias laughed. “Nothing. I’m just worried about the rescues. They deserve better than they get, and it’s not their fault people don’t stop long enough to hear their _story._ ”

“I kn-know— knew someone like that,” Gray said, nodding. They held out their hand to Zachariah. “Here. Let’s get you into the back seat, then. There’s a lot of legroom. Lots of room for you to lay on the floor. And blankets.” Gray walked around the side of the car and pulled out a blanket. “Here.”

“Th-thank you, Mx.,” Zachariah sighed as he gratefully took the blanket. It was gray and patchy, but he clutched at it as if it was a lifeline. He dazedly stepped into the back of the car and slumped in a pile behind the passenger seat. He placed his backpack carefully in front of him. Gray gently closed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side.

_“Thank you,”_ Mathias breathed. “I… I see a few of these come through every year. Shit circumstances. Every time. And I…” He rubbed his hands together. “They can’t help the world we live in. I just want to… _help_ the ones that don’t have someone they can, um, trust up here. The mayor is a good man, but—”

“But some fall through the cracks,” Gray said gently, carefully watching the man’s eyes, his hands. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Mathias huffed. “Well… I’ll, um… let you go now. Thank you. I won’t… won’t make this a regular thing. I promise.”

Gray shrugged. “Where we can help, we will.”

Mathias nodded. He stepped back into the doorway to his house. He pressed a button on the wall, and the garage door creaked and began to open.

Gray settled into the car and tipped his head at Mathias. Mathias nodded.

“Zachariah?” Gray said, looking over their shoulder at the boy.

He was huddled behind the passenger seat, his head tipped back against the door, already fast asleep.


	43. In The Hands Of The Enemy/I Did Not See That Coming/Presumed Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last day of whumptober!

Gray adjusted their hands on the wheel as they turned onto ninth. They shot a glance into the back seat, at the young man huddled there, fast asleep. As they rolled over a bump, he jerked and looked around, dazed.

“Wha…?” He wet his lips and met Gray’s eyes. “Um. S-sorry, Mx.—”

“Please just call me Gray,” they said gently. “It’s alright.”

Zachariah nodded. “G-Gray. Um… could I… do you… have any water?”

Gray’s lips pressed into a line. “I don’t. I was planning on getting some in town when I headed back. I can get you some, too. Are you hungry?”

Zachariah slowly nodded. “Y-yes,” he murmured. Dark circles were etched into the skin under his eyes.

“Hm.” When Gray reached Main, they took a left, towards the city center. The trees on either side of the road made patterns in the shadows that slid over the car.

They pulled up to a storefront that sold snacks, bottled water, and candy. The team usually stopped there before heading back up to Burmingham. Sometimes Vera would chant _road trip, road trip, road trip_ as she picked out her snacks. The memory made Gray smile.

“Stay here,” they said softly. “I’ll go get you something.”

“No, you, you don’t… _have_ to…” Zachariah licked his lips as he said it, and shot a look out the window at the store. Gray could hear his stomach grumble from the front seat.

“No, but I will,” they said with a gentle smile. “I’ll only be a moment.”

They climbed out of the car with a groan and walked into the store. Lining the walls were shelves of snacks, little pies, bags of dried fruit, sticks of cured meat wrapped in plastic. There was a long row of nothing but chocolate bars and fruity hard candy. Against the back wall was a long refrigerator filled with sandwiches and bottled drinks, juices and sodas, and if you brought in five empty bottles, you got the next drink free. Gray picked up a basket at the front door and wandered down the first row.

They grabbed a bag of chips, a packet of jerky, and a small apple pie and put them into the basket. Down the next, they took a bar of chocolate. From the refrigerator against the wall, they took a ham sandwich, a bottle of root beer, and two large bottles of water. They took the basket up to the register and dug into their pocket for their wallet.

The cashier smiled at Gray as they hit buttons on the ancient cash register. It reminded Gray of their childhood, years ago, before the syndicates crept into the world and broke it from the inside out. The register dinged and the cashier looked back up at Gray.

“Seven units,” they said quietly.

Gray pulled out the folded papers of credit Schiester had given them in exchange for helping with the refugees. Each bill was printed on cloth-like paper, with his signature in the lower right hand corner. Most of the town got by on bartering. Daniel payed his people in cash.

Gray laid down two bills of five units each. “Can you keep the change as credit here?” they said as they tucked the snacks under their arm.

The cashier nodded. “Sure,” they said with a smile. “For anyone in the family?”

“Yes.” They briefly wondered how many other places knew them all by name, or just by their faces. Gray gave a nod and turned to leave. “Have a good day.”

“You too! Thanks for coming in.” The cashier waved as Gray turned and left the store.

As they walked across the sidewalk, they could see Zachariah’s dark head of hair just visible over the door of the car. They opened the door and slid into the seat. Zachariah raised his eyes to Gray, dull with terror and lack of sleep.

“Got you a few things,” Gray said gently. “Also, you might want to sit a bit further down. I can see you through the window.”

Zachariah’s eyes went wide and he shoved himself down lower behind the seat. Gray’s mouth pinched as they passed back the food.

Zachariah licked his lips and clutched at the snacks as Gray passed them back one by one. He tore open the packet with the sandwich and shoved almost the entire thing into his mouth.

Gray watched him with sadness dragging at their heart. The sandwich was gone in three bites. Zachariah cracked open the bottle and gulped down half of the root beer in one breath.

“Hungry, huh?” Gray said, the corners of their mouth turning down.

Zachariah nodded vigorously. “Yes,” he gasped as he pulled open the bag of chips. “Thank you.”

“Hm.” Gray started the car. For a moment they sat still, distracted by the sound of crunching coming from the back seat. Then they put the car in drive and pulled away from the storefront. They pulled onto the street and drove south.

The crinkle of the chip bag and the sound of crunching fell silent. “Um… G-Gray? Where…? I thought you lived north of Crayton?”

“I do,” Gray said heavily. “But I’m going to the town hall first.”

There was a soft gasp from the back seat. “Oh… sh-shit, no, _please,_ ” Zachariah whimpered. “Gray, please, M-Mathias said I wouldn’t be, um, _welcome,_ and I just want to… _please_ …”

“I’m not turning you in,” Gray said gently, casting another glance back at the boy. His eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears. His hands shook as he clutched at the seat in front of him. “I said I would keep you safe, and I will. Daniel Schiester has his own history of being… unwelcoming… to people in my own family.”

Zachariah nodded. “I’ve heard he’s… um… pretty intense.”

“Right.” The street opened up into the main square. Gray pulled up to the town hall. It towered over Gray, casting a broad shadow across the wide square. Multiple cars were parked outside it, some in good repair, and some barely held together with duct tape and rope. Every now and then, someone would stagger out the front doors, alone or in groups, all with identical haunted looks in their eyes. _Must be a heavy refugee day._ Gray put the car in park and turned it off again. “I just have a few questions for him.”

Zachariah nodded weakly. “And… and should I…”

“Stay here,” Gray said firmly. They climbed out of the car and made their way up the steps to the front door.

As they pulled the door open, they nearly collided with a young couple. The father held a baby in their arms, barely a year old, kicking her little legs and squalling at the top of her lungs. The mother briefly met Gray’s eyes. Gray’s stomach lurched at the look of… blankness there. Like there was no soul, no mind, piloting the body that walked through the door.

A volunteer Gray recognized, Mandy, stepped up and tucked the young woman under her arm. “Hey, Gray,” she said sadly as she steered the couple through the door. “Thanks for holding the door. See you in a bit?”

“Maybe,” Gray said as the family passed them and trudged down the steps. “I’m only here to talk with the mayor for a second.”

“Later, then,” she said with a nod. She guided the couple to her car and helped them into it.

Gray tore their gaze from the family and walked into the atrium. There were about ten refugees inside, some wandering aimlessly with empty eyes, some huddled against the walls as if hiding from blows. Two volunteers, Jeff and Denise, stood at tables, taking down information. Daniel Schiester stood at another, helping refugees fill out the packet of papers to get them settled once they were screened by the other two.

Gray shuddered as they realized, now, what those questions were meant to do.

Daniel looked up as they approached. A flat smile spread across his face, the ice-blue of his eyes never warming. “Gray,” he said, and held out a hand. “Good to see you. I didn’t think you were on the volunteer list for today?”

The three refugees standing in front of the table looked up at Gray without curiosity or fear. They all, to a person, looked… vacant.

Gray shuddered.

“I’m not volunteering today, no,” Gray said gently. They motioned with their head towards the staircase to Daniel’s office. “But I would like a word. Just a few questions. I won’t take up much of your time.”

Daniel’s mouth tightened his smile. “Of course,” he said evenly. He turned to the refugees. “Excuse me, please,” he said, his voice pitched low. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” He turned to the other volunteers. “Denise!” She raised her head. “Help these three out, would you? We’re almost finished with the paperwork.” Denise nodded and broke away from her table to take Daniel’s spot at his. Daniel turned and walked up the stairs, not checking to see if Gray was behind him.

Gray’s knees cracked as they climbed the stairs to Daniel’s office. Their thoughts drifted to Zachariah, and to the journey he’d had from Fort Meyers all the way north. _Twenty-four days._ Ever since their own family had returned, Zachariah had been slowly making his way north, facing god knows what.

They swallowed dryly as they stepped into Daniel’s office. They kept the door open.

Daniel sat down heavily behind his desk. He steepled his fingers as Gray took a seat in front of him. He raised his eyebrows at him. “What brings you in, Gray?”

Gray blew out a slow breath. Something in the back of their mind whispered at them to get out, to leave, to keep their mouth shut about everything they’d seen and heard. Perhaps it was all a misunderstanding. Perhaps this would anger the most powerful man in Crayton, and they would lose his support forever.

They couldn’t let it go unsaid.

Gray wet their lips. “I… I’m concerned about… some rumors I’ve been hearing.”

Daniel’s lips pursed in amusement as he blinked. “Oh?”

“I… I keep hearing reports of… people going missing. Disappearances. And… I was wondering if were looking into them. If you had any updates.”

Daniel huffed out a laugh. “Gray… I’ll be one hundred percent honest here: I am too busy to chase after every report of someone going missing. The people who find their way here, they’re too traumatized to make a truly comprehensive and factual report anyway. I’m…” Daniel leaned in. “I’m sorry. I know hearing about these things must be hard. Especially after everything you and your family have been through. If it’s… too much, or you need time, just tell me. I can arrange for your credits to be paid until you are all well enough to help more regularly. This work… it takes a toll. On all of us.”

Gray shook their head. “It’s not that. It’s—” They raised their eyes to Daniel, then to the wall behind him, where the pictures of the refugees hung.

There was a new picture on Daniel’s wall.

It was of a young man, maybe Sam’s age, maybe a little older. He had thick blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and was wearing a worn brown t-shirt. His eyes were an almost startling green, bright enough that Gray could see the color even in the dark, slightly-blurry photograph.

He looked familiar. He looked…

Except for the eyes, he looked _exactly_ like his sibling, Aryn. The young kid they and Isaac and helped not even a week ago.

A chill punched through Gray’s gut. They looked at Daniel where he sat in his chair, relaxed, almost looking _bored._ They thought of Zachariah, huddled in the car, hungry and exhausted and desperate. They wondered how long it would have taken for his picture to end up on the wall behind Daniel’s head, if Mathias hadn’t stepped in.

The smile slid from Daniel’s face. “Is there a problem?” he asked, coldness hardening the edges of his voice.

Gray glanced at the photo and back to Daniel. “You told Isaac you thought Caleb disappeared on the road,” they said darkly. “Caleb.” They pointed with one finger. “That’s that boy’s name.”

Something tightened behind Daniel’s eyes. Goosebumps erupted over Gray’s skin. They wondered, dizzily, if Isaac would have already started shooting, if he was here.

Daniel sat back in his chair, his head tilted at Gray like he was calculating something. Deciding whether to tell Gray the truth, and how much of it. Or perhaps deciding whether or not he was going to kill them right here.

_How long would Zachariah wait before he took the car north? He doesn’t know where he’s going. How long without hearing from me until the others come for me?_

Daniel shrugged. He raised an eyebrow at Gray.

“Gray,” he said softly. “What is it you thought we do here?”

Gray’s breath froze in their chest. “…wh-what?”

Daniel leaned back in his chair. “I told you,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “On the very first day I met you and your family. Your Stormbeck boy is not the first syndicate agent that we’ve caught in our net. Not the only one… by _far._ ” Daniel tilted his head back towards the wall behind him.

Gray’s eyes went wide as they moved over the photographs. “You mean… all of them…?” Gray’s chest tightened. “You’re calling them _agents?_ ”

Daniel scoffed. “What else would you call them? We’ve caught spies, assassins, the engineers for the entire syndicate machine. They come north to destroy us. I stop the threat.”

Gray leapt to their feet. “And that boy?” Their hand shot out to point at Caleb’s picture. “Would you call _him_ a syndicate agent?”

“Yes,” Daniel said as they watched Gray evenly. “I would.”

“By what… _measure?_ ” Gray gasped. “By what _proof?_ ”

Daniel laughed, and the sound grated on Gray’s ears. “By the measure that he was syndicate.”

“But—”

“He had their fucking _mark_ on him, Gray,” he said through his teeth, his veneer of control slipping. “Tattooed it right on his arm.”

“But…” Gray’s stomach dropped as they again thought of Zachariah waiting for them in the car. _I should never have brought him here. I put his life at risk._ “What did he…?”

“He was a low-level Stormbeck enforcer,” Daniel said through thin lips.

“‘Enforcer,’” Gray scoffed. “You make him sound like he’s… Daniel, he’s _nineteen_ —”

“How old do you think your own Stormbeck was when he first killed someone?” Daniel said, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t pretend every young person is somehow absolved of all their sins. Anyone can do evil, no matter who they are.”

“You seem to have learned this _intimately well,_ ” Gray hissed.

“I have,” Daniel said as he slowly got to his feet. “I know the nature of Stormbeck cruelty better than most.”

“And you’re continuing their legacy, as far as I can see,” Gray spat. “That kid, Aryn… they’re an _orphan_ now, Daniel. They came north with nothing, and you stole the one thing they had. What happened to them? Are they just—”

“They’ve been placed with a loving and protective family,” Daniel said, his eyes flashing.

Gray’s hands shook as they stared at Daniel. “What… what _happened_ to you?” they murmured. “Were you… a, a plaything? A rebel? What did they do to you?”

“I wasn’t a plaything, no,” Daniel said softly. His cold eyes blazed with icy fury. “But I did have a front-row-fucking-seat to Joseph Stormbeck’s destruction of my life, and of the Defense Corps.”

Gray sucked in a breath. “So Finn was right.”

Daniel frowned. “Finn? Right about what?”

“They _said_ you were Defense Corps,” Gray said softly. “They said they thought they could see it. And you… what, you… you’re getting _revenge?_ By… by sifting out people who… anyone _you_ deem to be a syndicate threat? Anyone who wears a syndicate mark?” They swallowed thickly, terror tightening in their throat. “Daniel… what do you _do_ with them?”

Daniel smiled, saccharine. “Gray… you’re a pragmatist. You’ve done what you had to do to protect your family.” He narrowed his eyes. “What would you do, if you were in my position?”

“I wouldn’t kill just anyone who wears a syndicate mark, that’s for goddamned sure,” Gray hissed. “Do you even… _ask_ them their stories? Do you even try to find out who they really are?”

“I don’t have to,” Daniel said. “Playthings get branded. Playthings don’t have a choice. But tattoos… and anyone who works in a syndicate household…” He shrugged.

“Sometimes there’s no choice!” Gray said, their voice rising in pitch. “Sometimes there’s—”

“There’s _always_ a choice,” Daniel sneered. “There’s _always_ a choice between providing comfort and service to the enemy, and finding another way to live.”

“Is that what you did?” Gray said darkly. “Provide comfort and service to the enemy?”

Daniel’s mouth slowly fell closed. He thrust his chin at Gray. “I made mistakes,” he rasped. “I chose the wrong things. And I atone for that, every day. I keep this town, and the entire north with it, safe. I make the hard choices no one else is able to make. I deal with the threats, so it doesn’t fall to anyone else.”

Gray’s lips trembled as they forced themself to look at Daniel. “Daniel,” they said breathlessly. “Where is Caleb?”

Darkness passed over Daniel’s face. “When you comforted Aryn on Friday,” he said, even and measured, “Caleb was in chains, two floors beneath their feet.”

Gray blanched. “No—”

“He was executed that afternoon, by private tribunal. His blood is on my hands. I carry that burden, so no one else has to.”

_“No,”_ Gray whimpered. Their hands closed into shaking fists. “Daniel…” Tears burned in their eyes.

Daniel rested his hands against the desk and leaned towards Gray. “Gray… I make the hard calls. I make the sacrifice, so my people can sleep at night. Yes, it’s ugly work. I eliminate some people that _you_ might deem redeemable, especially given your _clement_ standards. But believe me…” Daniel’s mouth twisted in an ugly grimace. “The syndicates, and the people who tolerate them, _cannot_ be changed. There is no redeeming someone who no longer cares about human life. If your Stormbeck boy had been allowed to survive his return south, you might have learned that.”

“You have _no idea_ what kind of person Gavin Uriah was,” Gray growled.

“I have a far better idea than any of you,” Daniel said, his voice soft as a whisper.

Gray clenched their jaw and leaned away from Daniel. Their heart pounded in their chest.

Daniel’s lip curled as he leaned away as well. “This system works, Gray,” he said, his voice suddenly perfectly even. “I understand that it is… _distasteful_ to some. If you and your family cannot live with the consequences of this work, I understand. I can release you from all of your obligations here. After all the work you have done to fight the syndicates, I can ensure that your credits are covered, wherever you go.” Daniel folded his hands in front of him. His thumb rubbed back and forth against the top of his hand. “You can find work elsewhere, or live your lives in peace doing whatever it is you wish. But please understand…” He fixed Gray with a cold look. “Any resistance to this system, I will see as an act against the safety of the north. And I will deal with it with the prejudice with which I handle the threats I already find myself burdened to handle.” Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Do we understand each other?”

Gray pulled in a deep breath and pushed it slowly out through their nose. Their hands were shaking, their chest so tight they could barely draw breath. Their heart hammered against their ribs.

“Yes,” they said softly. “We understand each other.”

“Good.” Daniel sat down behind his desk. “Then can I expect you for your shift on Friday? Or should I take you off the list for that day?”

“N-no,” Gray mumbled. “Or… let me think about it.”

Daniel tipped his head in a magnanimous nod. “I understand,” he said gently. “This work is hard. I understand if you need some time to wrap your head around it.”

Gray struggled to calm their breaths as they took a step backwards. “We’ll be in touch,” they murmured. They turned and didn’t look to see if Daniel responded.

They strode down the hall and had to stop themself from taking the steps two at a time. Their head swam. Their lungs burned. They rushed across the atrium and shoved the doors open, blinking in the sudden brightness outside. They jogged down the stairs and yanked open the door to their car.

Zachariah sat up with a start. “What—”

“Stay down,” Gray ordered, jamming the keys into the ignition. “Don’t move. Stay down.”

Zachariah gulped. “Wh-why, what… what happened?”

“Found out what happens to you if you’re found,” Gray said darkly. They tore away from the town hall and flipped around. They had to force themself not to slam their foot down on the gas.

“Wh-what happens?” Zachariah whispered. Gray glanced back at him again. The packets of food were all empty. The bottle of water was half-full at his feet.

“You’re executed as a Stormbeck agent,” Gray said through their teeth.

_“What?”_ Zachariah whimpered. “I… oh, _fuck_ …”

“Just keep your head down,” Gray spat. “Don’t move. You can come up front once we leave the city but _don’t move._ ” Zachariah shuddered and huddled closer to the floor. Gray snatched the phone up from the passenger seat and flipped it open. They dialed the number for the team’s other phone and held it to their ear.

Isaac answered almost immediately. _“Gray?”_

“I’m alright,” they said quickly.

Gray could feel Isaac tense on the other end. _“Gray… what happened? Do we need to—”_

“I have another rescue,” Gray bit out. “And I found out about what Daniel has been doing to the people going missing.”

_“Gray, I—”_

“It’s a lot,” Gray said in a rush. “We’re not in danger. But we need to talk. All in person. I’m just leaving Crayton, but I’ll try to be there in less than three hours.”

_“O— okay. Drive safe. Gray… who_ is _it?”_

“Someone you know,” Gray said with a glance behind them. Zachariah looked back at them with terror in his eyes, etched even deeper than before. “His name is Zachariah.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who followed this story. More is coming. I just can't stop!

Zachariah huddled lower and lower in the seat. The car rattled as Gray drove up the bumpy driveway to the house. They put the car in park and glanced at him where he shivered. He clutched his backpack on his lap on the front seat, his knuckles white. They wet their lips and turned off the car.

“It’ll be alright, Zachariah,” they said gently.

Zachariah nodded distractedly, his eyes unfocused. “Mm-hm.”

“Hey,” Gray said softly. Zachariah brought his eyes to theirs. “I’ve already told them you’re coming. No surprises. And they won’t… won’t, ah, hurt you.”

He nodded again. “I kn-know,” he whispered.

Gray pushed out a slow breath as he looked at them. So damned _young,_ no older than Sam. No older than Edrissa.

“What are you worried about, Zachariah?” they murmured, speaking soft and low, just like they did with their family when they all were frightened.

Zachariah gulped and blinked tears away. “I… um… I d-didn’t, um, h-hurt them. But I… I was on the team that did. I… um…” His cheeks flushed and he looked down. “I h-helped… d-drag… Isaac, his name is Isaac… into his cell, once. I’m not the one who, um, who hit him, but… I… j-just, I just… _watched._ And S-Simmons…” His throat worked as he tried to swallow again. Tears stood in his eyes. “S-Simmons… held a, a gun to… to Sam’s head.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Their name is… is Sam. And I did… _nothing._ ” His hands clenched in fists around the strap of his backpack.

“Hey,” Gray soothed, and gently placed a hand on Zachariah’s shoulder. “You helped them. Right? Isaac told me you helped carry Sam to the car after they—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Zachariah whispered. “They were… they were being tortured for weeks. I wasn’t part of it but I… I _knew_. And I did _nothing._ ”

Gray fell silent and pressed their lips together. Their hand stayed firm on Zachariah’s shoulder.

“They let me live,” he breathed. “And I don’t know _why._ ”

Gray tipped their head. “My family is largely a good judge of character. I’m sure they knew—”

“They knew I was willing to work for the Stormbecks,” Zachariah whispered. “And I begged them not to kill me. That’s all they knew about me. That’s it.”

Gray chewed their lip. “That’s all true,” they said softly. “But you also told me you didn’t have a choice but to work for them.”

Zachariah looked up at the house. He shivered. “I didn’t think I’d see any of them again,” he rasped.

Gray laughed before they could stop themself. “I don’t think they expected to see you, either, if I’m honest. But I…” Gray paused. “We’ve all done bad things. All of us. But we try again. And by doing what you did in the end, to help them…”

_Some of us have done far worse._ They bit down on their lip.

Zachariah nodded sullenly. “Okay,” he whispered, and wiped his nose.

“And…” _It’s not permanent. When we find you a permanent home…_

That probably wouldn’t help anything. Gray closed their mouth and climbed out of the car. Zachariah followed, his head bent, his eyes shining with tears. He trudged behind Gray as they made their way to the front door. Gray opened the door and stepped into the house.

Everyone was in the front room. Finn and Ellis sat on a couch together, bent over the coffee table, the puzzle there momentarily forgotten as their heads snapped up, their eyes fixed on Gray. Tori sat in an armchair. Vera balanced on the arm of it, a bowl of cereal in her hand. Sam and Edrissa sat on another couch, the sides of their legs touching, their fingers laced together. Isaac stood against the doorway to the kitchen. Everyone was there, except—

Gray’s brow furrowed. “Where’s—”

Gavin walked through the doorway from the kitchen and handed Isaac a mug of tea.

Zachariah gasped. His backpack thumped to the floor in front of him. “You… you have… G-Gavin Stormbeck…”

Gray took a step back. “I… I thought you—”

Vera took a bite of her cereal. “We call him Gavin Uriah now,” she said, seemingly unbothered by Zachariah’s reaction as she crunched at the bran flakes.

Zachariah blinked and shot a glance in Vera’s direction, eyes wide, before he stared again at Gavin. “Y-you…”

“Zachariah, I thought you… you _knew?_ ” Gray said, their gaze darting between Zachariah and Gavin.

Zachariah slowly shook his head. His eyes went wider as Isaac took a small step in front of Gavin, placing his mug of tea on the kitchen table. He reached back and clasped Gavin’s hand.

“But I… you… h-he _hurt you,_ ” Zachariah breathed. “H-he raped… he _tortured you._ ” His chest heaved with gasping breaths. “I don’t… understand…”

“He was lying,” Isaac said, the faintest hint of a growl in his voice. “He was lying so his mother would trust him. He never wanted to. He was _ours,_ the whole time.” Gavin gazed at Isaac with a look that made Gray’s heart ache. There was trust, there. Sorrow. Love.

They blinked and took a step towards Zachariah. “I’m so sorry,” they murmured. “I thought… I would have prepared you. I thought you _knew_ he made it out with them.”

“Everyone thinks Gavin Stormbeck died on May eleventh,” Zachariah whispered. His eyes were still riveted on Gavin. “I… _how…?_ ”

“When you helped us,” Vera said, resting the bowl on her knee while her other hand squeezed Tori’s shoulder, “Gavin was getting Ellis.” She nodded in Ellis’s direction.

Ellis waggled their fingers at Zachariah. “Nice to meet you,” they said sardonically.

“N-nice to meet you, too,” Zachariah mumbled distractedly. He blinked and looked again at Gavin. “He… _h-how long_ … has he…?”

“Ever since I left. The first time.” Gavin spoke up from behind Isaac. He took a step forward and folded himself under Isaac’s arm.

“You… I’m so confused,” Zachariah confessed. He shivered again, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

“He’s good, Zachariah,” Sam said softly from the couch. Zachariah whimpered softly as he finally turned his gaze on Sam. “He’s with us. He has been, the whole time. The whole t-time we were… were there.”

_“Sam,”_ Zachariah whispered. “I… I w-wondered if you… I worried…” He wrung his hands in front of him. “How…?”

“Finn fixed me up,” they said, pride warming their voice. Finn flushed where they sat on the couch. “They’re a medic. They—”

“I know,” Zachariah mumbled. “I know they… they helped… fix you. After. I knew about that.”

Gray’s chest ached with the sadness, the _guilt_ lacing Zachariah’s voice. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Gray,” Isaac said softly from where he stood with Gavin. “What happened with DFS?”

Gray’s lips quirked into a smile that the nickname had caught on. They opened their mouth to speak.

“What’s… ‘DFS’?” Zachariah said, looking around, his eyebrows pulling together.

“Daniel Fucking Schiester,” everyone said at once.

Vera burst out laughing. _“Yesss,”_ she hissed.

Gray smirked. “We aren’t, ah, fond of our fearless leader of the north. So that’s our nickname for him. Well, it was Vera’s nickname, but I see it caught on rather quickly.”

“Oh,” Zachariah said in a small voice.

Gray nodded as their gaze move over the room. “We’ll discuss what I learned today,” they said, pushing down the cold thrill of dread that welled up in them as they said it. “And after that we’ll get you cleaned up, get you some new, warm clothes. We have a spare bedroom where we’ll get you set up.” They resisted the urge to glance at Isaac. They knew he’d be blushing anyway, at the mention of the room he never slept in. It would be cleared now, prepared for Zachariah in the three hours the team had had since Gray called them to tell them they were coming.

Zachariah stood frozen with his backpack at his feet. Gray gestured into the room. “Sit anywhere,” they said gently. “We don’t bite.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ellis said with a grin.

Gray rolled their eyes. “Except for Ellis, apparently.”

“You can sit here,” Sam said from their spot on the couch. They moved over, gently maneuvering with their right arm still slinged. Zachariah stared blankly at them for a moment before he bent and grabbed his backpack. He shuffled forward and sat awkwardly on the couch, as far away from Sam as he could get.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m kinda gross. Haven’t had a shower in—”

“We used to live on the road, Zach,” Vera said with a smile. “We’re used to it.”

“Um…” He wet his lips nervously. “P-please… I want to be called, um, Zachariah.”

Vera straightened. “Oh. Sorry.” She pressed her lips into an apologetic line.

Sam pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and passed it to Zachariah. He took it gratefully and pulled it around his shoulders, his eyes unfocused.

Everyone’s gazes slowly made their way back to Gray. They cleared their throat. “So, about… about the mayor.”

“Tell us all about Danny boy’s shady shit,” Vera grumbled. She took another bite of cereal.

“Well…” Gray let out a breath. “He’s, ah… he’s killing people.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

“Who?” Isaac said, his voice careful and measured. His arm tightened around Gavin’s shoulders.

“Anyone he wants,” Gray said through their teeth. “Anyone who comes through with any syndicate affiliation. And anyone who comes through with a syndicate tattoo. That’s what the screening questions are for. He’s weeding out… _syndicate agents._ ” The words tasted bitter on Gray’s tongue.

“But…” Sam’s voice shook. “If people lie… Z-Zachariah, did you tell…?”

“It wouldn’t matter,” he whimpered. He pulled up his sleeve. The Stormbeck crest stretched across the top of his arm in black ink.

Edrissa gasped and shrank back from him. She bit her lips and squeezed Sam’s hand tighter.

“We know what it’s like,” Gray said quickly. “We know that sometimes, you only have the choice between working for the syndicates, or starving. We know that you did what you could. And we… we know you didn’t hurt any of us.”

Edrissa blinked and relaxed slightly.

Zachariah folded forward and buried his face in his hands. He shook his head and muffled a sob. “But I didn’t stop it,” he whispered. “And you…” He lifted his head and looked at Isaac. Miserable tears shone in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “I helped them hurt _you._ ”

“No, you didn’t,” Isaac said, his voice tight. “You helped carry me to my cell once. That’s it.”

“After they almost shot you,” Zachariah whispered. “After they… after they beat you.”

“Zachariah,” Isaac said forcefully. Zachariah flinched and glanced at the floor. “Listen. I’ve been put through enough shit to, to tell you that…” Isaac shook his head. “You didn’t hurt me. So… don’t add that to your conscience. Okay? And you… you left. You helped us.” Isaac drew Gavin even closer to his side, almost like it was an unconscious movement.

“Not soon enough,” Zachariah whispered.

“ _Yes,_ soon enough,” Sam murmured. Their hand found Edrissa’s again. Zachariah stared at the floor.

Gray cleared their throat. “As far as I know,” they said as they crossed their arms over their chest, “The people going missing are going missing because Daniel is pulling them off of their caravans.” Their throat burned with the echo of tears.

Isaac’s eyes went wide. “But… l-like Caleb…?”

Gray’s eyes fell closed. “Ah. Yes. Caleb is… is dead.”

_“No,”_ Isaac snarled. Gray opened their eyes. Zachariah and Edrissa both flinched away from his anger. “He… that mother _fucker_ … you’re, you’re sure?” He looked at Gray, his eyes blazing with desperation.

“I’m sure,” Gray murmured. Their voice broke. “When we helped Aryn… he was killed that afternoon.”

_“Fuck me,”_ Vera breathed. Tori reached up and clasped her hand. Tori’s eyes were bright, focused. She looked more present than she had been in several days. And even with the appearance of Zachariah… Warring hope and despair twisted through Gray’s heart.

“We’re… g-going to do something about it, right?” Finn asked, hesitant. They squeezed Ellis’s hand. “We can’t just…”

“No,” Gray said through numb lips. “We can’t.”

“Does he know you know?” Isaac said. Darkness brewed in his eyes, trembled in his limbs. And beside him Gavin looked…

He looked terrified. But below that, there was a hardness. Gavin looked _murderous._

Gray briefly wondered what it would be like to go to war against Daniel, if the team had the ingenuity of _Gavin Stormbeck_ at their disposal.

They shook themself slightly. _I will never, never ask that of him. I’ll never ask him to use himself for destruction. He’ll never have to do that again._

“Yes,” Gray said softly. “He knows. He told me himself.”

Vera scoffed. “And he thinks we’re okay with that? He thinks we’re just gonna… what… let that _go?_ ”

“I don’t think he gives a damn what we think,” Gray said heavily. “He made that perfectly clear.”

“But we’re gonna stop him… right?” Sam said. They sat up straighter. “We can’t let him just… _do_ this.”

“No,” Gray said, clenching and unclenching their fists. “We can’t. Not now that we… _know._ But… he made… some very explicit threats.”

Vera rolled her eyes. “Forgive me for not considering _Daniel Fucking Schiester_ to be oh-so-scary after we’ve destroyed the Stormbecks,” she said, not batting an eye at Gavin.

“I do,” Gray said, watching Gavin carefully. He stood beside Isaac, strong, the violence in him falling and slipping beneath the surface again. “As far as we’re concerned, he’s the most powerful person in the north. He controls the entire refugee recovery program. He holds the line, and who _knows_ what kind of resources he could muster if he asked for them?” Gray’s gaze moved over their family. “I consider him to be just as much a threat as Joseph Stormbeck. More, maybe. Because up here, he can control our _allies._ ”

No one spoke.

Tori raised her head to look at Vera. Vera gazed back and leaned gently against her shoulder. When Tori met Gray’s eyes, they shivered. Fire burned in her eyes, and fierceness, and everything else that had been so _gone_ from her ever since she appeared on their doorstep weeks before.

“Fuck ‘im,” Tori murmured, and her voice sounded strong. “We can’t let him do this.”

A painful smile pulled at Gray’s mouth as they looked back at her. She held Gray’s gaze. She didn’t look away, didn’t sink back against Vera. They nodded. “No,” they murmured. “We can’t.”

“So what’s the plan?” Isaac said, tense, shaking. “How did you find out about him, anyway?” He jutted his chin at Zachariah.

“One of Daniel’s people,” Gray said, bracing for an outcry. There was none.

“Does this person know Danny is killing them?” Vera said.

“I don’t think he does, no,” Gray said. They shuffled their feet.

“Would he be willing to keep sending us people?” Finn said, sitting forward. “I mean, if we could run the same operation we ran with Tori, just funnel people north and place them with people once we find houses… I mean, DFS doesn’t control _every_ route in, does he? Would people notice if folks started showing up farther north without being sent through DFS?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said with a shrug. “I’d have to do more research. Which means I’d have to continue helping Daniel with the screening process.”

“I don’t think that would hurt,” Isaac said tightly. “Might even catch a few that way.”

“But we’re not going to… to _wait_ until we have that figured out, right?” Sam said, and made a small, strange motion with their right hand where it sat tied against their chest. “I mean… we can start… start saving them now, right? We don’t have to wait?”

“Mathias said he only gets a few a year,” Gray said.

“I doubt that’s all,” Isaac murmured. “I’ll bet that’s just all he _finds._ ”

“Yeah, I bet that’s true.” Vera drew a hand through her hair.

“But we’re _doing this,_ right?” Isaac said, his eyes flashing. “We can’t… Jesus, Gray, we’ve been up here for… for _three weeks_ and he’s been doing this evil shit right under our noses…”

“If we all agree to it,” Gray said. “We take a vote. Because this will affect all of us. This puts all of us in danger.” They leveled their gaze at Gavin. “ _Especially_ you.”

“Don’t give a shit,” Gavin said through his teeth. “He can’t… _fuck._ These people coming through… I understand when it was, was _me,_ but… these people aren’t _like_ me.”

Isaac pulled Gavin close and pressed a kiss into his hair. Zachariah watched with his mouth open.

“I’m for it,” Ellis said softly. “But I… I don’t…” They placed their hand on their belly and held Finn’s hand tightly.

“We can distance you from the operation,” Gray said. Finn leaned forward and opened their mouth to speak. Slowly, they closed their mouth again and looked at Ellis. “Does anyone else have any concerns?”

One by one, Gray looked around the room and met everyone’s eyes. One by one, each member of their family nodded.

“Alright,” they said softly. They reached into their pocket and pulled out their phone. “We’re doing this.”

They went to Mathias’s number, still not saved in the phone. They tapped it and typed out a message:

_Send us each one like him that you find. And be careful. Give me a call when you can._

They smiled gently as they slid the phone back into their pocket.


End file.
